


Peace is a Lie

by BebeUnit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Everything Hurts, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo Ren Has Issues, Power Imbalance, Psychological Torture, Redemption, Rey has even more issues, Snoke is a dick, You Need A Teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 58,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BebeUnit/pseuds/BebeUnit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It took all of her control not to react, not to let him sense her complete and immediate rejection.</p><p>He loved her.</p><p>It wasn’t the bizarre obsession he’d had when she arrived, or the dark possessiveness that developed afterwards. This was pure, earnest, warm and yearning.  And, of course, utterly terrifying."</p><p>Grey!Rey, unapologetic Reylo. Take a walk on the dark side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm operating under the assumption that Rey is not a Skywalker (I'm in the Kenobi camp, personally, but anything could happen). I'm pretty damn convinced if it, actually, so I'm not tagging any "INCEST?!" nonsense nor am I concerned about the fate of my immortal soul.
> 
> I have no soul.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you don't hate it.

 

The Code of the Sith 

 _Peace is a lie, there is only passion._  
_Through passion, I gain strength._  
_Through strength, I gain power._  
_Through power, I gain victory._  
_Through victory, my chains are broken._  
_The Force shall set me free._

 

 **She’d been unconscious** for nearly an hour since they’d arrived from Takodana. She seemed almost peaceful, and it was so out of place here. The interrogation rack was, quite sensibly, not designed for comfort. Wide steel restraints, sharp edged and loose enough that subjects could scrape themselves raw if they struggled, covered most of her narrow calves and forearms. To add to the unpleasantness, the angle was just upright enough to put the subject’s weight onto the lower restraints, requiring some strength to keep from sliding down painfully against the shackles. Detainees usually exhausted themselves within a few minutes.

Yet she slept, longer than he’d anticipated. So he sat nearby and pushed away the growing impatience, not willing to risk the opportunity to be the first thing she saw when she awoke. This girl in her filthy rag garment, a nobody from a junkyard planet, was the last obstacle. Kylo Ren would extract the last fragment of the navigation chart from her and finish what he’d started; not even a broken memory of Luke Skywalker would remain to threaten the First Order. The objective deserved his respect and full attention, even if this scavenger did not. So it was important to make an impression.

Finally, she stirred. Eyelids fluttering, eyes darting to make sense of strange surroundings. She tried to stretch her limbs and found them harshly bound. And then her eyes landed on him, still as an obsidian statue, studying her. He saw her suck in a ragged breath through clenched teeth as she began to struggle, testing the strength of her shackles. She was starting to panic already, and despite himself Kylo was disappointed. He’d hoped that she would have more dignity, be more of a challenge. He’d had no reason to expect it, but it would certainly have made the pivotal task more appropriately climactic.

“Where am I?” she demanded, her voice a cacophony of emotions. Kylo was eager to get into her mind, to feel her fear wash over him like a wave of steam.

Even so he maintained his calm, detached demeanor. His voice was inappropriately pleasant, even muffled by the mask. “You are my guest.”

“Where are the others?”

So entitled, as if she was in a position to demand information. It was mildly annoying, but sometimes it payed to play nice. He could tell her they were dead or captured, but it might have given her something to fight for. Kylo decided to remain vague, but couldn’t keep the disdain from his response. “You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call friends?" His masked sneer was audible. "You’ll be relieved to hear I have no idea.”

She did indeed seem relieved. She was no longer struggling, but the set of her jaw and the glint of her eyes betrayed... _Oh_. It wasn’t panic. It was _rage._

This might be memorable after all.

Kylo met her dagger stare with his own, blank, masked, inhuman. “You still want to kill me,” he observed, baiting her anger.

She practically shouted at him, and he took some pride in provoking her. “That happens when you’re being hunted by a creature in a mask!”

Kylo considered for a moment. The inhumanity of the mask was useful. People could only imagine the monster behind it, and what they imagined might be more frightening than reality. But letting an interrogation become more _personal_ also had advantages. He wasn’t deformed like his grandfather. He looked like he might have some humanity, some goodness to which they could appeal. The wolf in sheep’s wool was terrifying too.

So he stood and caught the latches beneath his ears, lifting off the black helm and putting it aside. His boots clicked on the metal floor as he closed the distance between them, keeping his expression blank. He bent over her slightly and, still with clinical detachment, laid a gloved hand lightly over the side of her face. She tried to jerk away, but the headrest of the interrogation rack didn’t allow for much movement. At each side there was a row of brackets with recessed tools: a drill, an electrode. They were seldom used in interrogations but their presence was intimidating by design. As expected, the girl endured the insult of his touch rather than get any closer to the instruments. He pressed his thumb into her cheek and brought his face inches from hers to examine her. Slowly, lazily, he inhaled. She smelled like sweat and engine grease, and the hint of ketones that signaled malnourishment. She was dirty, the kind of ground-in, stuck under the fingernails grit that came from years of hard work and would take hours to soak away. Her clothes were similarly distasteful, not unmaintained but simply old, worn, threadbare.

He wanted to remember her. The girl from Jakku. The one who handed Skywalker to him.

Kylo Ren called to the Force and bent it to his will, pushing tendrils of power against the edges of her mind. Not enough to feel invasive. He just skimmed off just her surface emotions, a taste of her fear, her rage at being immobilized. She barely registered the eavesdropping. He sensed only a faint glimmer of confusion, uneasiness, awareness of a presence she couldn’t describe.

He slid his hand down her face and wrapped it lightly around the base of the throat, primarily to make her aware of how nicely she fit in his hand. She satisfied him by sucking in another breath. Kylo Ren closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh wave of fear radiating from her mind.

“Tell me about the droid,” he demanded softly, his tone disarmingly businesslike.

Her muscles tensed under his hand, and he caught a waft of defiance. “He’s a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicator.”

Amusing. Kylo tightened his grip on her throat just slightly, savoring the barely concealed wince. “He’s carrying a section of a navigation chart. We have the rest, recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece. Somehow you convinced the droid to show it to you.” He leaned in closer, raising his grip to beneath her chin and tightening it enough to make her breathing more labored. “You. A scavenger.” He felt her swallow under his hand, and the Force whispered her emotions to him in an intoxicating chant. She was terrified. He even sensed a hint of shame at her own insignificance as she began to realize how very deep the water in which she swam really was. She knew she was in over her head.

Calling more of his power, he began to push inside her mind in earnest. He surrounded her consciousness with his own, invading her thoughts. In the immediate there was confusion, pain from the physical pressure of his assault on her consciousness, and a pervasive sense of wrongness. And as she became aware of what was happening, noble defiance.

“You know I can take whatever I want.” She was grimacing _,_ struggling in her bindings, trying in vain to pull away from him. Kylo drank in the arousing whirl of her emotions, fed his power on her discomfort, and pushed deeper. The content of her thoughts cleared like a scene coming into focus: Fear, but not of him specifically, more of a selfless fear of being unable to resist. Concern for her comrades. A flimsy hope of rescue or escape that even she knew was hopelessly unlikely. And beneath it all, like a dark lake that might have been miles deep, a loneliness so intense that it defined her.

A little hovel full of scratches to mark the days. A hole through which she monitored the stars for transport ships, afraid to look away for even a moment, even to sleep. Refusing to change her hair, a small stubbornness that belied so much pitiful, painful hope. Hunger, thirst, insult, boredom. Monotonous days that bled together into years, into a decade, and more.

Crying for a family that never came back for her.

He felt her despair, her hopelessness. The heat of the sand. The acrid mineral taste of the water. The cramping pain of hunger. The vertigo when she climbed too high. The burn of the sun on her skin. The anger of an unfair trade. The bitterness of selling a keepsake.

“You’re so lonely. So afraid to leave.” She choked on a cry, her eyes squeezing tight against tears. “At night, desperate to sleep, you imagine an ocean.” He was sympathetic to the privacy of these memories, and his voice was soft, reverent. “I see the island…”

One of her passing thoughts intruded on his gentility. “And Han Solo?” Hope. A ridiculous fantasy of rescue, so ridiculous that she herself dismissed it. He almost laughed at the absurdity, but the name was too infuriating. Even here? Could he find no deliverance, anywhere, from that old identity? “You feel like he's the father you never had,” Kylo spat, drawing back so she could see his disgust. “He would have disappointed you.”

She was still straining against the shackles, still cringing under the pressure of his assault. He could only admire her persistence. “Get out of my head,” she growled, her voice dripping with hate. But to Kylo, she may as well have been begging. He had no doubts about his power over her.

“I know you've seen the map. It's in there,” he taunted, holding her head between his gloved hands, fingertips pressing against the bony ridges of her face. His voice was a whisper in her ear, barely audible over her labored breathing. “And now you'll give it to me.”

The little probes he’d made as he followed single strands of thought and emotion at a time, skimming the surface of her mind, looking at the defining experiences, seemed merciful compared the siege he now laid. He ransacked her memories, probing everywhere at once, riffling through her thoughts without deference. He felt her pain, as if her skull would explode from the pressure of two minds in a space meant for one, and her violation as he brought up thoughts- private thoughts, humiliating thoughts- only to carelessly discard them as he searched for Skywalker’s location. _Show me the droid, girl._ She relived each memory as he scanned it, things she’d tried to forget and things only half-remembered to begin with. Sorrow. Hate. Regret. Yearning. Curiosity. Discovery.

Loneliness.

Hopelessness.

Kylo rode the waves of her pain, and felt himself swell. He knew her, knew parts of her she wouldn’t even acknowledge. It was always a powerful feeling, but most people didn’t have this much to reveal. Their lives were dull, their emotions desaturated. But this girl ( _Rey_ , shouted in a thousand remembered voices) was so vivid, with a well of emotion so tumultuous that a weaker practitioner might have drowned in it. He reveled in her fear, her fury, her despair. She was fuel for the darkness, pure and simple, and he wanted her. He wanted her in ways that didn’t do him a shred of credit, ways that were beneath him.

Thankfully, denying physical temptation was a purely Jedi endeavor.

He drew closer and pressed against her, dwarfing her pathetic form. His hands drifted back to ball into her hair, disheveling it, tugging it into a pair of hand-holds. A wince, another wave of pain, and Kylo Ren pressed his hips against her bone-thin leg. Even through his robe she felt him, felt his desire press against her _and he felt her feel it,_ a mental echo of the sensation. Waves of her panic washed over him, and she struggled anew until her wrists where raw and her calves ached. A gasp that might have been a sob tore from her throat. “Don’t be afraid,” Kylo whispered in her ear, more of a taunt than a consolation. “I feel it too.”

Her voice was hoarse and raw. “I'm not giving you anything,” she said, trying to sound confident as she choked on her own words.

“We'll see,” he whispered, teeth grazing her ear. The siege continued, thought after thought, memory after memory, dream after dream, until finally he found it.

The deck of a freighter. FN-2187. Han Solo. The droid's irritating chirp. The room filling with blue light, stars and planets, and a tracer line-

And nothing. Nothing at all.

He was thrown back into his own head hard enough to physically force him back a step.

_Oh._

He should have been furious, vengeful… he should have wanted to hurt her, to force her to comply. And he would certainly do those things. But for the moment he allowed himself fascination, and something darker. Kylo could only stare, dumbfounded, infinitely curious as her chest heaved with relief and she blinked in confusion. She had no idea what she'd done. But Kylo knew, though he barely believed it. Was it even possible? The strength it would have taken to shut him out completely, in someone this insignificant?  
  
He reached out again with the Force, focusing his power in a claw-like gesture this time and reaching for her physically, mentally. The girl winced and strained away from him, but he trapped her head between his hand and the rack of instruments at her ear. He knew where it was hidden now and didn't have to search. He was there again in seconds, on the deck full of blue light, star systems and a red line tracing from--  
  
He slammed back into his own head again, violently this time, and to his delight she followed him in. It was clumsily done, entirely artless, but there she was at the edges of his consciousness, her eyes wide with shock and then narrowing as she began to understand.  
  
"You... You're afraid," she said, almost gleefully, reveling in his shared thoughts in a manner so familiar to him that he almost smiled. "You're afraid you'll never be as strong as Darth Vader!" Now, he did smile. She spat the words at him as if they would wound, but he knew himself too well to feel violated.  
  
He nodded approval. "Yes. That's true." He leaned against her, placing his weight against her chest, letting his hips brush her thigh. "What else can you sense?" He whispered, softening his hand on her cheek. He let his thumb roam over her lips and treasured her sharp inhale, her immediate and thorough withdrawal from his mind as she felt the dark curiosity wafting from his thoughts.

He crept into her thoughts a third time, a smaller, sharper, more honed probe. Kylo Ren closed his eyes to concentrate his focus and felt for the eye, the calm center of the swirling maelstrom in his own mind. He felt it fill with quiet strength, whispers of power, and from there he _pushed_ , pushed in along that tendril into her core. He felt her trying to shove him back but she was so clumsy, with no idea how to shield herself from a more focused attack. Kylo Ren kept pushing, kept pulling himself in along the thread until finally he could see it, in its entirety. The droid, noisy and excited. FN-2187, eyes narrowed. Blue lines crossing Han Solo's face. Star systems and orbital patterns and a red line tracing a path from one edge to a planet whose name had probably been lost for a thousand years. He had it. Skywalker's location. Finally.

She shrieked in frustration, pounding against the rack in her fury. He could feel the tide of loathing that filled her, but it was unclear whether she hated him or herself. It didn’t really matter to him though. The emotion itself was a tell.

A force-sensitive. A strong one, untrained, full of the kind of anger that would accept the darkness easily. Snoke needed to know. This wasn’t an opportunity to waste. But as much as Kylo took pride in having something to show for this effort, he hesitated. Would Snoke kill her to eliminate competition? Would he train her himself?

Why did it matter to him?

He was having an emotion he couldn't name, and couldn't determine if it represented strength or weakness or some tolerable neutrality. Not regret, and certainly not pity. More like a dangerous possessiveness.

He released her, boots clicking across the floor as he left with no acknowledgement. He let the door slide closed on her ocean of rage, leaving some poor Stormtrooper to drown in it.


	2. Chapter 2

**He’d been furious for months.** It was a sort of cosmic symmetry that, like her, he didn’t know if he was angry with her or with himself. All he knew was that he wanted her, needed her back, needed her _now_. He had been screaming as much in a pain-fueled delirium as Hux, a med-droid, and half a squad of Stormtroopers stuffed him into a bacta tank aboard the _Finalizer_. Thankfully, it wasn’t ever mentioned. There were some advantages to his position.

Snoke wasn’t pleased at the girl’s escape, but the knowledge of where Skywalker had been holed up for the last decade was enough to keep Kylo Ren from any sort of instructive punishment. He couldn’t say as much for the Stormtrooper she’d tricked into releasing her. Now there were preparations to make, and he had training to finish. It was a daily drone of advanced combat forms, stealth tactics, telekinetics and battle meditation. That last was his weakest area, because it required more meditative calm than he had ever been able to muster in battle. No matter how tried to control the rage and pain that fueled his combat, he couldn’t manage to envision his opponent’s intentions and focus on his own at the same time. Snoke berated him for this failure, and Kylo was beginning to resent it. Still, he buried himself in holobooks and even older media trying to understand the process better. He would master it, eventually.

When it came to Skywalker, timing their next move was a balancing act. Wait too long, and the resistance might inform Skywalker that the knowledge of his location had been compromised. Move too soon, and Kylo Ren might not be strong enough to defeat his old master alone.

_Or, she won’t be there yet._

Because of course that was where she was going. She’d been curious and delighted to discover the force at her command. She would want to learn more. She would seek out someone to teach her.

_Will you be satisfied with meditating for hours and repeating tired philosophy? Will that be enough to slake your curiosity?_

He thought, he hoped, he pleaded with the universe that the answer was no.

Finally it was decided that the point of diminishing odds was approaching, and with or without full mastery Kylo Ren would go to Ahch-To to eliminate Luke Skywalker. And if the scavenger girl happened to be there, so much the better. But to be sure the operation was successful, the Knights of Ren would go. The full company. This was a rare occurance. They usually operated semi-independently, collaborating to train and to plan stratagems or overarching objectives, but rarely did more than one of them appear on a battlefield at once. It was probably overkill, but this was arguably the First Order’s most critical moment. Failure was not an option. And as the Supreme Leader so sternly reminded him, it was Kylo Ren’s duty to put aside his pride and heroic aspirations and take the precautions that would ensure success. He still led the Knights. It would still be his victory, technically.

_What if she isn’t there?_

He thought he might blow up the kriffing planet.

 

 ---

 

 **The Force shifted** as soon as the command ship hit atmo. She could sense him, stern, resolute, searching. It was almost certain that he could sense her too, so she wasn’t going to make a show of hiding. Rey had known he'd come, eventually, though she had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. When Master Luke had seen it ten days ago and made his plans to leave, she never even considered going with him. She was so much stronger than when they’d last met, and somehow this battle seemed inevitable. It was better to end it soon, before he could do more damage. Kylo Ren was a weapon in their enemy’s hand. She must defeat him, appeal to him, find what shreds of Ben Solo might remain… and if she could not, she would have to kill him.

The size of the island didn’t give Rey much time, but she didn’t really need to hurry. She’d chosen her ground for this fight long ago, close enough that she could save her strength and avoid needless anxiety. It was a rocky beach, the largest on the island, gently sloping into the rough emerald sea. The familiar roar of the ocean, punctuated by the sharp cries of sea birds, calmed her nerves. She had spent days meditating and training here, memorizing the rocks, the dips and hills in the coarse sand, the patterns of the tides. A place with more cover would have been preferable, but most of the island’s vegetation grew on the steeper slopes, and Rey wouldn’t give him the advantage of a hill. This was level ground, as level as could be found on Ahch-To. It felt right for them. She stood facing the foothills and waited, breathing, watching, cultivating balance.

Finally she saw him at the top of the hill. His black cape pulled at his shoulders in the shore breeze, and moonlight glinted off of the steel lines of his helmet. Rey was a small grey speck in a field of grey but he spied her anyway, and started advancing down the slope. He was deliberate, confident… and in a moment, Rey saw why. Cresting the hill, just paces behind him, a group of figures that she knew could only be the Knights of Ren.

Doubt turned her calm center to stone. Perhaps it would have been wiser for her to insist on leaving with her teacher, but Master Luke had thought that meeting the threat head-on would be some sort of defining moment for Rey, that she could cement her commitment to the light by confronting darkness. She hadn’t wanted to disappoint him, and she really believed him when he judged her strong enough. But the assumption had been that Kylo Ren would come alone, or mostly so, to confront his old master. It had never occurred to them that Ren would come backed by his entire elite order. Seven black-clad figures, all masked, fanned out in a wide line and advanced down the hill. Their weaponry was diverse: blasters, a bowcaster, a pair of batons that were almost certainly electrified, a great wide blade, a pike, and of course the shivering red plasma of Kylo Ren's lightsaber. Rey activated her own borrowed weapon, but a part of her knew there was little point. Blaster barrels were already pointed at her, and unless the force suddenly gifted her the ability to swim she was trapped against the shoreline.  
  
Taking a defensive stance, she shouted to the figures over the roar of the ocean at her back. "Sorry to disappoint, but Luke Skywalker isn’t here."  
  
"So then he knows he was betrayed." Kylo Ren advanced away from the line of Knights until he was just a stone's throw from her. "Does he know by whom?"  
  
Rey gripped the hilt of her saber tighter, knuckles white. She struggled to calm her heartbeat, fluttering with anxiety. "I trust my master enough not to lie," she shot back.  
  
He ignored her denial, instead gesturing casually at the array of warriors behind him. "Scavenger, meet the Knights of Ren." They were a terrifying assortment. Every weapon was raised, and their mismatched black armor revealed nothing of the individuals beneath. Like him they seemed almost inhuman, an effect that she was certain had been purposefully cultivated to intimidate. "Surrender, girl. The odds are against you."  
  
She sprang to the left before Ren could finish, lunging at the nearest Knight. He wielded an enormous sword, impracticality large, and likely not very quick if Rey knew anything about combat. Her blue blade hissed through the humid air as she sliced at him, and he dragged his weapon up to meet her-- and blocked her attack. Blocked her lightsaber. With a metal sword. Her confusion was such that he was able to bear down on her, sending her heels sliding in the wet sand before she recovered enough to spin aside and retreat.  
  
The lightsaber should have sliced clear through that weapon.  
  
"First Order mining operations have uncovered veins of cortosis," Kylo Ren supplied in a casually cheerful tone that made Rey sick to her stomach. He was closing in with the rest of his comrades. "Supreme Leader Snoke thought it would be useful to have a unit with weapons and armor impervious to lightsabers."  
  
Rey tried to retreat a few steps only to find herself calf deep in the surf. She began to feel panic pulling at her resolve, speeding her heartbeat, catching her breaths. The odds were overwhelming. She would not escape.  
  
"Resisting will only bring pain." Ren's modulated voice barely carried over the waves. "Disarm now, and you won't be harmed."  
  
That's not going to happen, Rey thought stubbornly. She hadn't spent her life surviving on self-reliance alone just to surrender at the first test the force threw at her. She might not win, but she wasn’t going to go quietly.

She burst forward at another of the Knights, this one with a long, thin pike, and was on her hands and knees in the water an instant later. Her lightsaber fizzled and shorted out in the sea, and a mind-bending pain in her calf told her she'd been shot. They were on her then, one masked assailant bowling her over and pressing a heavy and sharply armored knee to her chest while Kylo Ren plucked the lightsaber from her hand. Another of them fitted a pair of wide shackles to her wrists as a wave rolled in over her head. Rey sputtered and strained to keep her head above water before one of the figures hauled her over his shoulder in the least dignified manner she could imagine.  
  
The trek back to Ren's  _Upsilon_ -class might have taken thirty seconds or two hours, Rey wasn't sure. Blood was pouring down her calf, every heartbeat sending pain shooting up her leg. She was beginning to feel faint, but it was impossible to tell if that was blood loss or the effect of being hung upside down over the brute's shoulder. Either way, the result was the same: as soon as the Knight tried to set her down in the loading bay of the command ship, she collapsed.  
  
For several minutes no notice was taken. The small ship was readied for takeoff, hyperspace coordinates were entered, and equipment was stowed. Then Kylo Ren was crouched beside her with a red med kit, ripping open a paper pouch. He all but slapped a pair of bacta patches on the entry and exit wounds in her exposed calf, and she did her best no to wince. It did nothing for pain, but at least she wasn't going to bleed to death. Then he hauled her up by the arm and dragged her to a bench, where he unceremoniously plopped her. All the Knights were seated, two to her left, one to her right, four across from her, including Kylo Ren. It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't comfortable either. Rey drew in her shoulders to minimize the chance of accidental contact. They didn't banter or congratulate each other, just sat in silence like an awkward group of bats.

It took several minutes of stabilizing breaths before she could summon her voice. "Where are you taking me?" She demanded.  
  
Kylo Ren's even, robotic voice answered her. "Rakata Prime."  
  
The answer meant less than nothing to her. "What the bloody hell is Rakata Prime?" This time no one bothered to reply.

 

\---

 

 **At first sight** Rakata Prime reminded Rey of Ahch-To. It was a lush orb of blue and green, largely ocean with islands of varying size. But as they flew closer to the surface she could see remnants that reminded her more of Jakku. The surface was dotted with ruined tech. Downed ships poked out from every landscape, even the sea, and among them there wasn't a single model Rey recognized.  
  
They landed on a large expanse that looked exactly as a military installation ought, with concrete, steel, and gleaming black tile over every surface. The Knights to either side of her each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her roughly from the ship, not bothering to inquire if she could stand. Luckily the medicine had done its work, and she kept her feet. Again she was deposited in the middle of an unloading dock and all but ignored for a short length of time. She eyed the dense jungle past the edges of the concrete, and squashed any plans to run and hide for the time being. She had no idea what lived in there, her hands were disabled, she was injured and unarmed... with her luck, there would be rancors loose. But the momentary pause still gave her an opportunity to survey the base at which they'd landed. It appeared extensive, though there couldn't have been a very large fleet on the ground from the size of the landing area. A gleaming modern complex dominated the immediate landscape, but it was dwarfed by the absolutely massive ruin behind it. She didn't know what to make of it. Aside from the ruined Jedi temple on Ahch-To, Rey had almost no experience with that sort of thing, but she knew she was supremely uncomfortable in its shadow. A sense of dread hung over her, very at odds with the verdant landscape beyond the edges of the concrete compound. She tried to reach to the force, to let the light enter her and counter the unease as Master Luke had taught her. Normally she found it easy to balance herself, to settle her inner turmoils. But now she felt almost nothing, hardly a whisper of response from the force. It was frightening, but she was exhausted and injured and in the midst of a harrowing experience. Perhaps she wasn't concentrating as she should.  
  
Kylo Ren had disentangled himself from an onslaught of nervous-looking bootlickers, and was now prodding her forward. With nothing else sensible to do, Rey let him guide her in. There was a maze of hallways, all identical, several ugly industrial staircases and finally, when she was sure her injured leg would give out and he'd have to drag her, they were stopped before a door. Her captor punched a code into the panel and the door slid into the wall to reveal a cell-like room. Like everything else it was all grey durasteel and black tile, with a generously sized bed that looked basic but comfortable, a dresser, a chair, and a curtained alcove with a shower and privy. Kylo Ren prodded her inside and she sat heavily on the bed, reaching down with her shackled arms to gingerly touch her calf. The injury was throbbing and hot. Rey winced, immediately concerned about infection. She'd been knocked into the water moments after being shot, and who knew what pathogens it might have introduced. Ahch-To was still a strange planet to her, one her immune system was not prepared to do battle with.  
  
Suddenly she realized that Kylo Ren was still just standing in the doorway, staring at her. She stared back, wondering if this was the point at which they started the inevitable verbal duel.  
  
"Get off of my bed."  
  
Rey's eyebrows shot up and she all but leaped to her feet. "This is where you live? I thought this was a prison cell!" Granted she'd wondered if the soft double bed wasn't a little much for a captive, but the room was pristine. It looked completely unlived in, with not a scrap of personal memorabilia or an item out of place. It was bizarre. Almost sad, if she were capable of feeling empathy for the monster in the doorway.  
  
A console by the front door flashed as Kylo Ren punched in a code and a small section of wall hissed, releasing an air seal. Beyond was a room, if you could call it that. It was barely two square meters and contained nothing, not a piece of furniture nor a scrap of fiber. The ceiling was exactly the height of the small door, so low that she doubted Kylo Ren could have stood up straight inside it.  
  
"This, stupid girl, is a prison cell." Rey's eyes widened as she eyed the dark, empty little room. Kylo's boots clicked on the metal floor as he crossed the room towards her, and she found herself backing away, almost involuntarily. "I designed it specifically to hold you. There are no electronic panels you can break into and disassemble, no hatches to wiggle through. Even if you manage to reach the light side of the force and dislodge the door, which I doubt you have the training to manage, you'll emerge right next to me. I'm an exceptionally light sleeper which, of course, is why I’ve gone through the trouble of soundproofing. I can't have your emotional state robbing me of rest."  
  
Rey started to shake, started to feel the _beatbeatbeat_ of her heart accelerate and crescendo. _Wake up, wake up, please don't be real._ More than anything, she did not want to go into that little box. She reached again for some light to fill her chaotic center and ease the panic rising in her chest, but only emptiness answered her. _No. No, this is sick._ But he was bearing down on her, all black edges and chrome lines and iron-hard hands in leather gloves.

"For how long?" She asked, choking on her words as he gripped her arm and shoved her into the cell.

His answer sent shivers of fear down her spinal cord. "Until you accept the darkness." He was punching the code into the panel and the door was pulling shut, creating a sliver of light over her face that grew progressively narrower.  
  
Like being encased in a tomb.  
  
"Welcome to the First Order, scavenger."


	3. Chapter 3

**For the first hour,** if he placed his hand against the wall Kylo Ren could feel her pounding against it. It was an idiotic waste of energy, but a desirable one. If she'd gone in calmly and sat down to meditate, it would have been a bad sign. Here was hard evidence of rage, fear, acting before thinking. Everything Skywalker should have warned her against. He tasted sweet gratification that his instincts had been correct: after ransacking her mind on Starkiller, he knew all her secret fears, her oldest wounds. Being left alone, with nothing to do but wait in the darkness, seemed a clever way to throw her off balance. So far, it was working.  
  
She quieted after an hour, and Kylo Ren had to resist the desire to probe her mind. If she sensed it, which was very likely, the isolation wouldn't be complete enough to be effective. So he dismissed his curiosity, presumed that she had exhausted herself, and left the room to see to other preparations.  
  
First the kitchen, where a droid took meal orders for him and his charge for the next week. Then the laundry, where another assisted him in selecting her uniform. It needed to be similar enough to her usual style that she'd incorporate it into her sense of self, but different enough to shift that self in the desired direction. Her hair was another problem. She'd worn it the same way in every memory he’d found, for as long as she’d been on Jakku. It was time for a change. The process of turning a Jedi to the dark side had been carefully perfected and recorded by the Sith for uncounted ages. No detail could be overlooked.  
  
A firm, insistent pull developed at the edges of his consciousness. Supreme Leader Snoke wanted a report. Kylo Ren sensed his impatience and made immediately for the ruined temple, leaving rushed orders as to what should be delivered to his room. The ruin had been incorporated into the facility far at one end (or perhaps the facility had been incorporated into the temple, which was several times the size of the newer building). It was far enough removed from the mundane spaces to keep weaker-minded individuals from becoming too uneasy, and for good reason. It was a nexus of dark energy, hanging heavy within the stones so that one's mind had to wade through it like syrup. It whispered, promising, suggesting, in languages known and unknown to him. It used to terrify him, but he had learned better. Now he felt strengthened, powerful, worthy. His insecurities fled as he breathed in the ancient air, steeped in secrets. The door to the temple's main chamber had been rent in some long forgotten war, such that one had to pick their way over rubble to approach Snoke as he loomed larger than life in his enormous throne at the center.  
  
"Skywalker has fled." The Supreme Leader's voice boomed in the hall as Kylo Ren took one knee at the base of his dais.  
  
"Yes Master. But he left his apprentice behind."  
  
"Curious." Snoke waved absently at him, and Kylo stood. The creature (this was the only word anyone knew to use, as his species was unknown to them) contorted his face in thought. "A strange thing for him to do."  
  
"Do you think he meant for her to come here, Leader?" If that was Skywalker's plan, it wasn't a very good one.  
  
"If so, his scheme will fail. She must fall, Kylo Ren."  
  
"I have been preparing for her. Her training has been pitifully minimal. She will break easily."  
  
Snoke seemed to consider, gazing up into the gloom of the endlessly tall chamber. "Do you recall, my apprentice, why the empires of the Sith always fell? Why, with all their power, they could not defeat the Jedi?"  
  
Of course he knew. He'd read every book in the archive, meditated over every whispering holocron in the First Order’s repository. But showing his irritation would have been disrespectful and dangerous. So he controlled his tone, no matter how he resented the digs Snoke made at his intelligence. "Infighting, Master. They could not unite. Apprentices killed each other and their masters in competition for power. The individuals were strong, but their organization was weak."  
  
The enormous figure nodded. "Mercy is weakness, but trust is useful. Compassion is an affliction, but affection inspires strength. Do not mistake cruelty for power as you take this apprentice. The Rule of Two was a destructive mistake. If she kills you, she may gain strength but the First Order will lose it."  
  
"She will not kill me." He could snap her bones with his bare hands, could crush her throat with a thought. Still, the scar on his face made Kylo Ren doubt his own words. She'd caught him with his pants down before, as it were. She might do it again.  
  
Snoke peered down at him with curiosity. "Said Sidious of Vader and Plagueis of Sidious and Tenebrous of Plagueis. But we are not the Sith, apprentice. We are more. Our wisdom must be greater."  
  
Kylo Ren stifled a frustrated sigh. "May I ask you to speak plainly, Master? What is it you suggest?"  
  
The snort of derision was strong enough to blow Kylo's hood back onto his shoulders. "The Jedi used trust to bind Master to apprentice. Do not reject the tactic on principle. If you depend only on fear and subjugation to keep her in your power, she will overcome you as soon as her hate outweighs her fear. You must draw on all the tools at your disposal, even those that traditionally belong to the Jedi."

“I thought Jedi tools were weak.”

“Any tool that accomplishes your goal is a strong tool.”  
  
It didn't make sense. How could he break her of her misguided morality and force her to accept the power the dark side offered while cultivating trust? "These things seem incompatible, Master. How am I to reconcile fear and trust?"  
  
"Use what you know of her. Be clever, as I know you can be when you apply yourself." Kylo was glad he had a mask to hide his irritation at Snoke’s casual patronizing. He nodded, and knelt again as he was dismissed. "Ready her and bring her to me. Let us see what insight can be gained."

 

 

\---

 

 

 **At first Rey felt only panic**. She beat against the door with her fists, her feet, her knees, her forehead, screaming at the steel walls until she was too exhausted and hoarse to continue. Then, ashamed of her lack of control, she tried to meditate. It had always come easily to her, earning rare praise from Master Luke. She'd had plenty of practice in fifteen years alone, clearing her mind of crushing loneliness, visualizing calming scenes until sleep finally took her away to the warmth of her dreams. Recognizing that creating that calm, quiet space could draw in the force, could eliminate the distractions that made it harder to hear it whisper to her, had not been difficult for her. Rey sat upright against the cold wall with her palms upturned as best she could manage in her shackles, and breathed deeply. She acknowledged her fear, her anger, the pain in her bruised and damaged body, before dismissing each emotion and sensation, putting them purposefully aside, until there was nothing left. She was open, empty, a vacuum for the light side of the force to diffuse into and fill with calm.  
  
Except it didn't come. She found some relief in dismissing her emotions, but no tranquility trickled in to replace them. She was just empty. She felt nothing at all. And then, insidiously, something else began to creep into her hollow center. It was foreign, frightening, hateful. Instead of whispering calm and reassurance, it whispered revenge, schemed, plotted cold and violent plans to achieve her desires. She could kill Kylo Ren, punish him for bringing her here and locking her in the cold dark. She could ransack his mind, draw up his pain and embarrassment and failure to torment him as he had done to her on Starkiller base. She could make sure that the anguish of his father, the grief of his mother, and the disappointment of his teacher were the last things he knew before she stabbed him in the chest with his own lightsaber, as he had done to Han.  
  
Rey gasped, gulping in cold air and lurching from her pose to press her forehead to the floor. She bit her lip, hard, purposefully allowing pain and shame overwhelm her until she couldn't hear the whispers anymore.  
  
This wasn’t her. She didn’t imagine things like this.

 _What is this hateful place?_  
  
She was afraid to try again, so with nothing else to do in the cold black box Rey lay down to try to sleep the time away. It only when she realized that the cell was exactly long enough for her to lay in but not an inch longer, designed perfectly for her precise height so that she could not stretch, that she began to cry. He was sick. He was sick and cruel and obsessed with her, and she was never going to escape him.  
  
Hours later, minutes later- she could hardly have guessed- pain seared through her head as a strip of light fell over eyes that had been staring into pitch black for far too long. Rey blinked, sitting up to see the doorway open. She was embarrassed by the frantic speed with which she scrambled from the cell, hugging her arms to her chest as she breathed the freshly circulating air and welcomed some light and sound into her deprived senses. But there was Kylo Ren, severe and imposing even without his mask, herding her into the 'fresher. Rey's senses were still too overwhelmed to protest. He removed her restraints, revealing the bruises she'd inflicted on herself trying to break down the door, and shoved a towel and a package of neatly folded clothing into her limp arms.  
  
"Wash. Thoroughly. You smell like a bantha." He pulled the curtain closed, and Rey heard the click-click of his boots as he stepped away to wait for her.

She should have been offended, offered some scathing retort, but after the hate-filled fantasy she’d had in the cell Rey thought it safer to de-escalate and keep calm, or at least empty. So she set the armload of clothes on the floor and peeled off her own garment, salt-caked and damp with sweat and blood. She turned to the shower, which was nothing but a chrome faucet on the ceiling and a drain in the tiled floor. A panel on the wall had a series of buttons, color coded.  
  
On Jakku, water was a precious and expensive resource that was rarely wasted on hygiene. On Ahch-To, she had reveled in the luxury of rinsing in the ocean. Regular bathing, in a shower, was not familiar to her.  
  
She tried a button. Nothing happened. Another, and still nothing.  
  
From beyond the curtain, Kylo Ren barked at her. "What is taking so long?"  
  
She didn't want his damn help.

Rey pushed another useless button. She tried pressing the red and the blue ones simultaneously. She punched the kriffing console.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this was not effective.

The curtain snapped open, and Rey scrambled to cover herself. Kylo Ren didn't ogle, to her great relief, but the complete lack of privacy was shocking regardless. He reached up and turned a handle on the ceiling fixture, then pointed at the buttons.  
  
"White to start and stop the flow. Blue for cooler, red for warmer, pink for soap. Green is the med setting. Turn the handle back when you're finished to prevent leaks. Hurry up." He snapped the curtain shut again and his boots click-clicked away.  
  
Rey was resolute that she would not cry, and her effort almost succeeded.  
  
The hot water was very hot, and she thought that she’d never experienced anything quite so luxurious. She let it pool in her hands and saw that it was clear, the clearest water she thought she'd ever seen. She let it spray into her mouth and found it pleasant, without the bitter mineral taste of the water on Jakku. And there was just so much of it. Rey pushed the pink button and found that the soap wasn't scented, but scum was rinsing from her hair and skin and gathering by the drain, so Rey assumed it was working. The medical option added a somewhat astringent quality to the spray that made her wrinkle her nose, but her bruises faded and her scrapes clotted, so it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The blaster wound in her calf wasn't much better, unfortunately. It wasn't bleeding, but her leg was streaked with red and burning hot. She wasn't going to ask Kylo Ren for help with it though, so she ignored it for the time being.  
  
Rey dried and dressed. The clothing was of medium quality, neither coarse nor fine, and consisted of a fitted black shirt and long, slim charcoal grey pants. There was also a sleeveless tunic in matching grey wool that reached mid-thigh, flaring slightly over her hips. The shoulders extended just past her own in tidy points. No belt, which she assumed was due to her prisoner status. Black soft soled shoes. It was, if she were perfectly honest, the sort of thing she might have chosen for herself, though probably in lighter colors.  
  
She was gathering her damp hair into her typical trio of knots when the curtain whipped open again. "Done yet?" He wasn't upset or annoyed anymore, just firm. Stoic. Better controlled.  
  
Rey glanced at him sideways as she pulled up her wet locks. "Nearly," she replied carefully, not wanting to reveal any more than her captor.  
  
He placed himself in front of her and batted her arms down, running long fingers through her hair. She instantly froze as if force bound. His touch was economical, efficient, and somewhat terrifying... casual contact was not something to which Rey was accustomed. She could count the times it had occurred on fingers and toes, ending with Finn pulling her from danger by the hand, a heartfelt hug from General Organa that she'd been too surprised to return properly, and Master Luke putting his hand on her shoulder once, probably with the intention of being reassuring. She'd tensed, he'd removed it, and it never happened again.

 _Don't forget the interrogation._ It hadn't been what Rey would have called casual contact, but it was the only other experience she had with Kylo Ren. He'd pressed himself against her in a bizarre way that she didn't really know how to interpret, and his mind had been full of a hungry intention that was alien to her. And from that to this: Kylo Ren, her greatest adversary at the moment, combing her hair with his pale fingers. It was positively surreal.

Finishing, he put his hands around her upper arms and leaned back slightly to view the result. Her hair, still dripping, was just hanging over her shoulders. It wasn't much of an accomplishment. "It looks better this way," the man offered, still unreadable as ever. He released her and turned away.  
  
"It's wet," she protested, stifling the instinct to say something petulant.  
  
He took little notice, pulling his mask and helmet down over his blank face. "It will dry." He donned his gloves and pulled up his hood (the costume seemed so overly dramatic in this casual, domestic scene that she almost laughed) before opening the door and ushering her out into the hallway.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" Rey asked as she stepped out into the tiled hall, though she was afraid she already knew the answer. He hadn't dressed her up like this to turn her over to an interrogation droid.  
  
He put a firm hand in the small of her back to propel her down the hallway. Rey considered making a run for it, but she had no idea what she'd do then. Even if she managed to escape the base the island was still a complete unknown, and she was still injured and unarmed. "Supreme Leader Snoke has demanded to meet you."  
  
Rey pursed her lips.

Fine. This was fine.

Kylo Ren hadn't made all his sick preparations and brought her all this way for a ritual murder. So unless something went wrong, this encounter was probably not going to kill her. She knew what they wanted- to turn her to the dark side of the force. She would just have to resist.  
  
It wasn't lost on her how absurd that simple statement was, but Rey had often found that she was capable of more than she suspected when there was no choice. She had climbed ridiculously tall structures to scavenge, without fear and without falling, because she had to in order to earn her portion. She had successfully negotiated her way out of hopelessly risky situations because failure was not an option. Being corrupted by Snoke and Kylo Ren was not an option. It just wasn't. She would just have to resist.  
  
After a long succession of miserably identical corridors, the landscape was changing. Steel gave way to stone, dark veined and smooth and _old_. Far older than the ruins on Ahch-To, though Rey couldn't say how she knew. Her steps faltered as she became aware of an energy, strange and subtle and demanding reverence. But Kylo Ren's hand, so irritatingly casual on her back, pressed her forward. The ceiling sloped higher and higher until all Rey could see above her was dusty gloom, and there was a sound, hissing and humming beneath the click and pat of their steps. Rey strained to hear it better, to locate the source, but it seemed to be everywhere at once, around and above and below and _within_ , growing ever clearer as they walked. A pressure began building in her chest, her heart beating faster and faster until Rey was sure it would fail and she would die here, that her body would waste away in the corridor. The air felt thick, and her breath caught in her lungs until she was flushed, sweating, panting, stumbling, with nothing but the insistent gloved hand at her back pushing her forward.  
  
Hugging her arms to her chest to fight the panic, Rey stopped walking and stared into the oppressive grey nothing before them. There was a great ruined door, and beyond the rubble, opaque emptiness like the maw of a great beast. The sense of doom was overwhelming. If she went in there, something terrible would happen. She was certain of it. Somewhere deep in her mind she put a name to what she was experiencing - panic sickness. She'd seen it happen to scavengers who climbed too high or squeezed into spaces too small. They spiraled into irrational panic and couldn't get to safety.  
  
"I can't go in there," she gasped, putting her hands to her ears to block out the hum of the whispers, so loud now that they drowned out her own thoughts. But it was no use, they were inside her mind, unintelligible and foreboding.  
  
Kylo Ren pushed gently at her back. "Master Snoke is not to be defied--" He trailed off as she dropped down to a crouch, hugging her knees to her chest and shaking her head furiously.  
  
"No, no I can't go in there, I can't--" She gasped for breath, her voice rising in pitch as she fought back tears. The pressure in her chest overwhelmed her senses, and she was certain she would die. She would perish and rot here and her desperate pleas would join the whispers for all the countless ages to come. "There's something wrong with this place, I need to get out of here..." She was too overcome to even be ashamed of herself. Every instinct she possessed was focused on one thing- avoiding that eerie, ancient maw.  
  
Suddenly Kylo Ren was facing her, crouched with his hands on her shoulders. "It's alright," he said, but the mechanically modulated voice was anything but soothing. "It's alright, Rey." And this time he'd removed the mask, his severe features softened. "I feel it too. It used to frighten me, but now it's  familiar. Soon, you'll welcome it. You won't be afraid."  
  
Rey shook her head, unbelieving, refusing to make eye contact. "What is it? What does it want with me?"  
  
"Don't you recognize the force?”  
  
She tore away from him, away from his too-gentle hands, his too-soft voice. This was her enemy, this energy was the dark side of the force. She would not be tempted. “I will never welcome it. This is wrong. This place is perverse.”  
  
Kylo Ren stood. “If you were truly secure in the light, you would not fear the darkness. Fear itself shows your affinity for the dark side.”  
  
Mustering the ability to engage in rational thought took effort. But as soon as she managed it, Rey had to admit he was right. Fear was weakness. If she allowed it to take hold, she would eventually fall. With effort, she cleared her mind, controlling her breathing as she took her fears one by one, acknowledging and dismissing them, finding her balance, focusing on her pulse, relaxing her muscles. But she did not dwell long in her emptiness. The solicitous whispers were creeping in, becoming more distinct. She closed herself to them, not quite calm, certainly not tranquil, but not as fearful either. She thought she could probably go on, and pushed a twinge of shame at her weakness down, down to be dealt with later.  
  
She stood and pushed her shoulders back, trying to reclaim some dignity. "Thank you for the lesson, Kylo Ren." She said with mocking sincerity. "I’m not afraid. I’ll meet your master."

 

 

\---

 

 

 **Kylo watched her pick her way over the rubble,** all lithe limbs and sharp reflexes. He’d been having a hard time not staring since she’d emerged from the shower. It was the first time he’d ever seen her clean and dressed in something that didn’t look like it was made of pieced together rags, and he found her even more captivating now than he had when he’d interrogated her months ago. Without the salt and dirt and grease she smelled like sweet loamy earth, like the forest on Starkiller. Her hair had felt fine and soft between his fingers, and it had taken all his control not to ball his hands in it. Even now, curling slightly as it dried, he wanted to pull it, force her head back, expose that pale, thin neck and wrap a hand around it.

These were not productive thoughts.

She despised him, even hated him, and he still might have to kill her. Attraction wasn’t a particularly helpful emotion at the moment. Then again, unlike his Jedi uncle, the dark side did not demand that he restrict his physical desires. Attachment still led to weakness, but Snoke had warned him not to reject affection as a useful tool. After all, it was affection that had turned his own grandfather to the power of the dark side.

Could he seduce her? Would it even be helpful to do so, or would she see through the strategy and detest him even more afterwards?

The typical tools for breaking a Jedi were pain and fear, until they became subservient or gave into hate. Instead of the old tactics, Snoke had suggested he earn Rey’s trust, but he still had to do that while avoiding the pitfall of compassion. Somehow, he had to make her see that kindness was only going to make her weak, that any mercy he showed her was stealing her strength.

Pain, fear, and trust.

How was he supposed to make those fit together?

Past the pile of scattered stones, Snoke towered over them on his throne. He was distracted, reading some dusty manuscript, with a pile of similar tomes at his feet. He knew they were there- he was far too powerful not to sense their presence- but was choosing not the address them just yet. Rey had stopped, staring, visibly straining to control her breathing. Kylo Ren put his hand back on the small of her back and urged her forward, a gentle push. _Still not afraid? Are you sure?_

She lurched away from him to walk on her own, and he had to admire her familiar stubbornness. He too was convinced that the only thing worse than having a weakness was exposing it.

Snoke looked up at them and snapped the tome closed. Kylo took a knee, but Rey just stood staring blankly, arms at her sides.

“Skywalker’s apprentice.” Snoke addressed her gently, more gently than Kylo Ren thought he’d ever heard the creature speak. So he _was_ trying a new tactic. Kylo Ren had been terrified out of his mind the first time he found himself in Snoke’s physical presence, but he seemed almost like he was trying to be gentle with her. Kylo wondered if she’d see through the ruse. “My student has expended much effort to bring you to me. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.”

Rey neither moved nor spoke. Kylo stood at her shoulder, closer than she probably would have liked, and he could see the sweat beading on her neck. She was trying to look serene, but it wasn’t coming easily. And, of course, it was useless. Snoke would know her mind inside and out in a moment.

Snoke was unperturbed at her lack of response, but leaned forward to see her better. “Where has your master fled, child?”

Kylo saw Rey lick her dry lips, and it sent a thrill through him. “I was not told.”

Snoke’s bald eyebrows rose in surprise. “How very curious! And once you had defeated Kylo Ren, as he intended, how were you to find him again?”

Rey’s mouth opened, then closed. “There were no instructions--”

“Do you not find it strange that he left his student, with barely half a year’s training, to battle a force user many times her strength and did not tell her where to find him afterwards?”

She swallowed. “Master Luke knew I hadn’t been able to resist interrogation last time, so he thought it would be safest for both of us if I didn’t know his location.”

“But if he believed you were strong enough to defeat my student, he wouldn’t have had any reason to fear you would divulge this information.” Snoke sat back and steepled his knobby fingers. “So strange that he would bet against his own apprentice. What do you make of this, Kylo Ren?”

Kylo kept his voice blank, free from either cruelty or empathy. “Skywalker’s secrecy suggests he knew she would fail, but still left her behind. Perhaps he intended for her to die.”

Rey stiffened. She opened her mouth, she shut it again. She swallowed. _Hard words to hear._ But they were too plausible to even count as manipulative. Sure, he’d had the intention of capturing her at some point in the future. It was why he’d commissioned her little room. But when he flew to Ahch-To, Kylo Ren never expected to find her there alone. If he had, bringing the entire order of Knights would have been embarrassing overkill. He thought he would find either both of them, neither of them, or Skywalker alone. Leaving Rey to face him with no training but a few months of meditation and some battle forms Ben Solo had mastered as a preteen was neglect beyond comprehension.

Snoke was delighting in Rey’s rather obvious inner conflict. “Or he knew she would be captured and there is some plot between them, some planned sabotage,” the creature droned on lazily. “But it is easy enough to ferret out such treachery.”

It was highly doubtful that any such plan existed. If so, the girl was doing an exceptional job of acting; her denials had an edge of desperation, of anguish, that told him she’d never suspected Skywalker of not having her best interests at heart. Snoke was incredibly perceptive when it came to emotion, and very manipulative. His stated suspicion was likely just an excuse to intimidate her and rifle through her thoughts for insight.

Snoke leaned forward and reached for Rey with an enormous hand. She bumped into Kylo as she tried to step back, and he had to place his hand back in the curve of her spine to keep her from pressing into his chest. His distracting hyper-awareness of her returned: He felt the tense jumping of her arm muscles against his chest, the strain in her neck as she fought the urge to flee outright, the desperate searching as her eyes scanned to the room, instinctively, for escape options. Kylo considered binding her in place with the force, knowing that an attempt at defiance would be exponentially more painful for her than what she was considering running from, but she wouldn’t learn if he solved her dilemmas for her. Snoke’s palm, large enough to crush her skull like an egg, cupped Rey’s face. The old dark-sider was powerful enough that he didn’t need physical contact or force-focusing gestures to probe a mind, but the contact was meant to intimidate, and it was succeeding. She was pressing back against him now, drawing uneven breaths, every muscle tense and jumping, and Snoke hadn’t even started yet.

Energy pulsed through the enormous room.

Kylo knew, intimately, the uneasy pain of Snoke’s probes. It was never physically comfortable to have your mind read. Consciousness took up space- not in a traditional physical sense, but in terms of the amount electrical energy that was usually present inside a skull. Double that and it increased the pressure, like breaking atmo without a functioning pressure stabilizer. Then there was the emotional exhaustion of reliving the memories as the invader viewed them. The Sith had actually developed it into a form of torture, drawing up the most painful, humiliating moments over and over until the subject decided to take their own life. _Death by Chagrin,_ they called it. As if that weren’t enough, there were also the individual qualities of the invading mind to consider… and Snoke’s was particularly unsettling. To Kylo Ren, it felt like drowning in tar. Rey seemed likely to share the sentiment, gasping for air and squeezing her eyes closed to shut against sensory input, which would be overwhelming at this point. Kylo felt a few pitiful pulses of energy as she tried to throw Snoke out, as she’d done to him, but she had no chance of succeeding. Something as old as Snoke had a massive presence. It was like trying to toss the _Falcon_ with one’s own physical strength.

It took an hour for Snoke to binge on the entirety of her remembered life. Kylo had to hold her upright to keep her from collapsing under the pressure of the assault, his leather-clad hands hauling her up under the shoulders before easing her down and leaning her fragile torso against his knee. He was never going to get used to how light she was, like a hollow-boned bird. He hadn’t seen all of it, when he’d read her mind in the interrogation room, but he’d felt the deep belly-ache of hunger that she’d lived with for most of her life. It made his task that much harder, because this was a person used to deprivation, used to living a life of squalid insignificance.

Almost as soon as he thought it, Snoke’s voice was in his head, booming and irreverent and impossible to dismiss. He’d finished and was ready to share some private insight.

_She is controlled, intelligent, and feral as a vine cat. Give her pain, and she will endure. Give her comfort, and she will be suspicious. But she is infinitely curious, and a collector. Skywalker frustrated her with vague answers and opaque philosophies. Be the contrast. Guide her thirst for discovery. Answer her questions. Seduce her with honesty._

Snoke wanted him to give her an education. An upfront, honest education. To provide the answers that her previous master had denied her.

Oh, but he would be delighted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has been completely rewritten since being originally posted.

**Rey almost melted** from sheer mortification when Kylo Ren had to carry her out of Snoke’s chamber but by the time His Royal Creepiness had finished, her legs had given up trying to support her. Rey’s head had an aching, empty sensation, as if she’d been filled up with air to her very limit and then suddenly deflated. There was a pounding pain behind her eyes, burning in her strained muscles, and a dangerous lancing pain in her injured calf, but she was honestly thankful for the distraction of discomfort. The experience of meeting Snoke, whatever he was, had been overwhelming. It wasn’t just fear, or the horrific violation of having her mind read like a book. It was the nagging realization that her mentor might have completely betrayed her.

Rey wasn’t a person accustomed to trust. Her family had abandoned her. Finn had tried to flee for the outer rim at the first test of resolve, and the fact that he’d changed his mind when she’d been captured on Takodana didn’t do much to restore her faith in him. She hadn’t known Han long enough to really trust him, though she liked to think he’d have earned it if he’d lived. She’d trusted BB-8, perhaps. He’d been very steadfast, but then it was in his programming.

Master Luke had been different. She’d never questioned, from the very beginning, whether he was trustworthy. He was a Jedi, a legend. Of course she’d trusted him. But though she’d spent the better part of six months on Ahch-To with only the old man for company, really they hadn’t spent that much time together. He was a hermit, after all. He’d given her two or three hours a day of instruction before retreating somewhere to do who knew what. They ate together, sometimes with conversation and sometimes without, and slept in separate parts of the ruin. Rey was used to privacy, so it hadn’t bothered her at the time. But now that she was forced to contemplate whether he’d purposefully handed her to the First Order, she had to admit that she was only barely acquainted with him. The trust she had placed in him was based on an heroic figure from a myth, not a man she actually knew. It still didn’t explain why he’d betrayed her ( _or just been careless_ , she reminded herself, as there was no hard evidence either way). She knew that she hadn’t been a perfect disciple, despite her gift at meditation. She‘d been impatient, she’d debated his philosophies, she’d been frustrated at the insinuation that she had the responsibility of solving the mistakes of his generation. But it was only because she wasn’t satisfied with incomplete explanations. She wanted to understand the force, completely. How could she buy into a philosophy that didn’t stand up to questioning? She’d always been convinced that an analytical mind was a strength, but maybe Luke didn’t agree. Maybe faith was what he was looked for in a student. But then why not just send her back to the resistance? He could have simply taken back his lightsaber and sent her home.

Maybe, after Ben, he thought a force sensitive that was vulnerable to the dark side was better off dead.

The speculation was exacerbating her headache. _I need a stim-shot_. Or a hot glass of Knockback.

Jostled from her contemplation by a welcome change in air quality, Rey saw that they were back to the maze of maddeningly similar industrial hallways. She scowled as a pair of black-clad officers passed them, making obvious attempts to avert their eyes from what must have been a bizarre scene: Kylo Ren, masked and imposing, carrying some girl with bedraggled hair… Rey wasn’t going to be a spectacle. She’d had enough of Ren. His arms could’ve been carved from rock for all the give they had, and he made her feel so damn _small_ … there had been enough unwanted physical contact for one day. So Rey wriggled, and almost missed his mechanically modulated intake of breath.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Ren, just put me down.” He complied, and thankfully gave up when she squirmed away from his overly-familiar hand at her back. She used every bit of control she had left to not limp for the rest of the walk, which took some considerable effort. By the time they reached the door to his room, she was sweating from the exertion. She bitterly admitted to herself that there was no way he’d missed it. Another weakness she couldn’t hide. How many had she revealed now? Rey had lost count.

She’d been playing the role of compliant captive all day, and it was sapping energy she no longer had in reserve. So as they crossed the threshold of his depressingly pristine quarters, she surrendered in the battle to control her mouth. “Do they really make you live like this, or this some kind of self-imposed deprivation? You don’t have a single piece of personal clutter?”

It was hard to gauge how annoyed she’d managed to make him with that stupid mask on. “This is a military base, not a pleasure cruise.” He pulled off the helm, and she could see his lips pursed. So she _had_ irritated him. It shouldn’t have made her so pleased, but she was down to small victories at this point. He pressed something in the door console, and a hatch popped open to reveal a couple of shiny covered trays set in a recessed space in the wall. He pulled one out and set it on the dresser. “Eat. Your body is burning muscle, I can smell it.”

Then he started pulling off his gloves, then unfastening his over-robe, then taking the lid off of his meal…

She didn’t want to watch him eat. She didn’t want to see him lounge in a chair in casual attire and eat a meal like a human being. That was not a helpful way for her to think about Kylo Ren. So Rey grabbed a covered plate from the wall and all but bolted into the dark little cell, letting her legs hang out the opening so he couldn’t close the door on her without warning.

“Suit yourself,” he grumbled after her. “But you forgot your drink.”

“Not thirsty!” she lied, not terribly effectively.

Rey uncovered her tray, and when her jaw dropped in disbelief she thanked the universe that she’d had the forethought to seek out some privacy. She’d never seen food like this. Actual meat. Whole, green vegetables smothered in some kind of salty, delicious fat. Actual, real bread- the kind that you needed yeast and sugar to make, with fluffy white insides. And there was _salt_ , and _pepper_ , and _flatware_. Even on Ahch-To, all they’d had were dehydrated field rations that weren’t very different from her portions on Jakku. This meal was so luxurious, it felt ridiculous. She was sitting in a cell, inside another larger cell ( _it may as well be_ ), in a First Order base on a planet where the dark side hung so heavy in the air that her mind practically had to wade through it, eating her first _steak_. She didn’t know whether to be angry at the First Order for having it so much better than she ever had in her whole life, or to wonder if they had a point in suggesting they might be a bit more successful at running the galaxy. Then again, Rey doubted the members of the senate ate any worse. _There’s haves and have nots, no matter who’s in power…_

She tried to take her time and savor the food, but she was struck by the idea that there would probably be more of it tomorrow, so it didn’t matter if she wolfed it down as quickly as she pleased. Being able to count on a meal tomorrow, _maybe more than one_ , was in itself a luxury.

 She emerged warily, holding her plate to her chest so Kylo Ren couldn’t see how she’d licked it clean. Another weakness to guard, another moment to remind her how much _less_ she was than the well-fed man sitting with his boots on the bed. He was reading something on a holo levitating in front of his face, concentrating, casually sucking some morsel off his thumb. Rey turned away, disturbed. This wasn’t the automaton she wanted him to be.

As Rey placed the plate back in the alcove from which it came, she spied the drink she’d missed: a glass of the cleanest, clearest water she thought she’d ever seen. A full pint of it. For one meal. She was too busy knocking it back (it was _cold,_ sweet mother of moons) to care when Kylo Ren jostled her aside to put his own dishes back. It blew her mind that there were scraps left on his plate. He’d left more uneaten that she’d had in a typical day for most of her life. She didn’t know whether to be angry or jealous.

He was staring at her now, his wide mouth set carefully so she couldn’t read him. She finished off the water and placed the glass back on the shelf, trying not to shrink under his gaze.

“It’s late.” he said simply, glancing from her to the cell. “You need sleep.”

Anxiety stabbed its way into her mind, hot and fearful. “I’m not sleeping in that coffin.”

Ren’s exasperated sigh was so heavy that it ruffled the loose ends of her hair. “I’m not asking.”

Panic was creeping in again, making the _beatbeatbeat_ of her heart grow loud in her ears. Yes, she’d just sat in there willingly to eat. But the door was open. There was light and sound and she was able to come and go. Being locked in, with no way to tell if time were passing, nothing to do, no one to talk to, not a ray of light or a whisper of ambient noise save for her own breathing, _and no way to know when or if anyone were coming for her…_ it was a horror. The stuff her nightmares were made of. And he knew it, and she knew he did, and he knew that she knew that he knew. One more crack in her armor, if she’d ever had any at all.

 “Why are you doing this? Really?” Her voice wavered, and she hated herself for it.

He paused, almost as if he had to think about it, had to come up with something to say besides _the giant creep told me to_. It wasn’t inspiring respect. But then the blank expression slipped off his face, like peeling off a veneer. He looked… resigned, she decided. “Because I don’t want you to die.”

What the hell did that mean? She was his enemy. He was at best brainwashed, at worst depraved, but either way there was no logical reason why her death should mean anything to him. “Why the hell not?”

He _winced_. Actually winced at the question, and Rey was struck by the notion that if it was his armor that was cracking, she didn’t want to see what was underneath.

“If we continue to be enemies, Snoke will order your death. Without a teacher, it’s a certainty. You can’t protect yourself. But I can make you stronger, stronger than Skywalker could, stronger than he’d even want you to be. And then, if you still want to be enemies, at least it’ll be a fair fight. But if you find you’d rather be allies…” Kylo shrugged, and Rey’s mouth fell open in disbelief when a whisper of a smile crossed his scarred face. “Well, a man can dream.”

She was sure the shock on her face looked ridiculous, but she didn’t care. He was attracted to her? Was that really what he’d just implied? Rey supposed it shouldn’t have been so surprising given how he’d pressed against her when he interrogated her on Starkiller, but she’d assumed that cutting his face open and blowing up the planet had probably dampened the sentiment. She was caught in the mad middle of shaking off the unwelcome sensation that crawled up her spine and actually imagining it, though she barely had a reference point. Long fingers. Wide mouth. Strong limbs.

 _Shut up shut up shut up._ She was not thinking about this. He’d killed Han. He was an enemy.

“Dream about _what?_ ” It was half naiveté, half incredulity.

He didn’t answer. The veneer was back in place, smooth and unreadable. Fine. She could process this confusing piece of trivia later. She was, apparently, about to have plenty of free time.

“Why the cell?” she asked quietly, despairing a little as he transformed from the human that terrified her to the villain she was comfortable with. The dynamics of that dichotomy were depressing.

“Skywalker left you alone to meditate?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not in a dark little hole.”

He nodded, barely waiting for her to finish. “Somewhere wide and open, where it would be easy to open your mind and empty out your emotions. But you can’t channel the dark side that way. You find the eye of the storm, the center point from which you can control your emotions and use them to fuel action.” He paused to gesture at the black doorway behind her. “But there has to _be_ a storm.”

For all the sense it made, and as interesting as she found the philosophy in an objective sense, she was still appalled. It was fine to understand an abstract idea, but when it was actually happening to you… “You’re trying, on purpose, to create negative emotions so I’ll be vulnerable to the dark side.”

“Vulnerable is not the word I would use,” he replied, one eyebrow raised in consideration. “But I suppose, from your perspective, it might feel that way.”

“Sarlacc shit,” she spat. Rey didn’t think she’d ever been so furious and so afraid at the same time. “That’s not how it _feels_ , that’s how it _is_. You’re using torture! You know exactly what’s going to terrify me and you know exactly where that fear leads. And don’t you dare patronize me, Ren. I’m not a child and I’m not an idiot.” But with her fists balled at her sides and the barely restrained urge to stamp her foot in defiance, she sure felt like one.

He sighed, his lips pursed. He was obviously frustrated with her. No wonder he wore a mask, his face was an open book when he wasn’t concentrating. “Fine. That is absolutely the object of this exercise. But you are making a mistake in thinking this is being done _to_ you. It is being done _for_ you.”

“How consoling,” she crooned, her response dripping with sarcasm. “I’m still not going in there."

His brown eyes were softer than they had any right to be, but his voice was hard-edged and serious. Rey bitterly wondered how much practice it had taken to cultivate that tone, to pretend to be this fanatical, and how much longer it would take before he actually became the Sith he was impersonating. “You are treading heavily on my patience. This is not a negotiation.”

She decided not to give him the dignity of a response. Rey simply folded her arms over her chest and stared him down, furious, defiant, daring him to do what he was threatening. She couldn't say she was surprised when he called her bluff. With a stiff wave of his hand, his dark ripples of force swelled and pushed against her, clinging to her joints, wrapping around her in icy tendrils that made her skin crawl. The last time he’d done this she didn’t know what was happening, but now could sense how he willed it, bent the force to his intention and bound her in place. She couldn't move, could barely expand her chest enough to breathe. He held her angry stare, and Rey searched his eyes for that edge of malice, that touch of sadism that she needed to justify her rage. She couldn’t find it. He seemed almost sad, and his hands and arms were gentle when he lifted her and laid her in the dark. It was unfair, it was disgusting, it was _infuriating_. She wanted him to be rough, impersonal, to throw her in with a sneer and snide remark as he’d done before so she’d feel justified in her hate. She wanted him to fuel fantasies about killing him, hurting him, making him pay for the upheaval he’d caused her, by being the despicable creature she’d been preparing to fight for six months.

But he wasn’t. He was a person, with flaws and assets, and the world wasn’t the black and white place she wanted it to be. The villains weren’t villains, the heroes weren’t heroes. And she was…

She had no idea anymore.

The icy tendrils that held her slipped away as the door closed everything out, and as soon as the pressure lifted off her chest she sucked in a breath and screamed her vexation into the dark.

 

\---

 

 **Sleep was evading him tonight.** It was one of the few things the Jedi had that the Sith did not: effective insomnia cures. And not just because Jedi meditation practice was unfathomably boring, but because sitting in the eye of a storm of rage just wasn't conducive to sleep. And for some reason, knowing that he'd locked a girl in solitary confinement to grapple with her most intense negative emotions wasn't sending him to sleep either. He didn't doubt that he had acted correctly: He was trying to give her the emotional tools she needed to grow, and she ought to be grateful to him for it. But she wasn't, and for some reason it _bothered_ him. He couldn't get her accusations out of his head. He found himself conducting arguments with her in his mind’s eye, trying to make her understand why he was doing this, why he did any number of things.

It had been a very, very long time since he’d felt a need to justify his actions.

Snoke demanded explanations sometimes, and of course Kylo gave them when required. But this was different. This girl should have no power over him. Her understanding wasn’t a required step in this endeavor, and he owed her no excuses. So why was it disturbing his sleep?

_You actually care what she thinks of you._

The thought was intrusive, unwanted, unbidden. A long dormant remnant of the boy Ben Solo, returning from the dead to tempt him. _No._ It wasn’t true. It was beneath him. She was just the raw material from which he would craft a weapon, and no one asks the ore if it wants to become a hammer. By the time he’d finished his work she wouldn’t even be Rey anymore, so why should he care what Rey thought of him?

_Fine. Then sleep._

He rolled over, tense and frustrated. The Jedi thought Sith philosophy was so self-centered, but doing something morally ambiguous to benefit another person was anything but. If he got his ass handed to him in morning combat training because he'd been unable to rest, Snoke's insistence that empathy amounted to weakness would take on a new, literal meaning. But this was what she needed, whether she knew it or not.  
  
Having convinced himself (and his imaginary mental representation of Rey, who was unrealistically reasonable and quick to see things from his point of view), he sank into a fitful sleep.

 

 

The morning came far sooner than he would have liked. He was still disquieted, and now he was groggy as well. Extracting himself from bed, Kylo pulled on fitted black pants and boots, tucking in the loose grey shirt that was his typical uniform for morning training. He spent an unproductive twenty minutes trying to meditate, but he was distracted. As much as he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t stop imagining Rey on the other side of the wall doing the very same thing. For some reason, the idea both excited and depressed him.

It suddenly occurred to Kylo to bring her to his training this morning. She was probably stir crazy by now anyway, and it would give her an opportunity to see what combat was supposed to look like. It might pique her curiosity, persuade her to stop fighting him so hard.

_And show her what you can do when you haven’t been shot by a pissed off wookie._

Kylo smiled to himself. Not the main objective, but sure. That too.

The door to her cell slid open, but when she didn’t rush out at once Kylo began to feel uneasy. He peered in and there she lay… sleeping still? He probed at her mind gently, brushing the edges, sure that she’d push back and wake up annoyed and self-righteous and defiant. But instead, there was just nothing.

No emotions, no dreams, nothing at all.

Kylo rushed forward, cursing as he smashed his forehead on the low entry. He crouched over her, looking for the injury, trying desperately to disprove the bone-deep worry that, somehow, she might have harmed herself _on purpose_. He couldn’t see anything glaringly wrong with her, but her hair was plastered to her face and neck and he shoved it out of the way to put his ear to her mouth and clumsily press two fingers to her jugular, searching for the hammer of her heart. Nothing, nothing, and then… a beat beneath his fingers and the soft sigh of air on his ear. Relief so intense that he couldn’t explain it, but it was brief. She was warm. Far, far too warm, and her skin was clammy with sweat. Kylo wasted a few seconds trying to remember which leg she’d been shot in, then just pulled off her pants for good measure. He sucked a breath through his teeth at the sight of her wound. The bacta patches were peeling away at the edges, revealing an angry red limb that was burning hot to the touch. Streaks of red ran up her thigh to her hip. Kylo had enough training in field medicine to know a blood infection when he saw one.

He gave her shoulders a shake. “Rey, wake up,” he demanded. She didn't stir.

Unconscious then, and Kylo knew he needed to hurry. If the fever was bad enough to render her unresponsive, she was at risk for brain damage.

Kylo tried to pick her up, and cursed the tiny size of the room. He had to pull her out by her feet before he could lift her, not wasting time to contemplate how it was possible that she’d gotten even lighter. He raced into the corridor, maskless and without his over-robe, but minutes mattered more than dignity this morning. He ran full tilt for the med bay, shouting at shocked personnel to _get the fuck out of his way._

Once in the med bay he commandeered a stretcher and laid her down. In the sterile white light she looked terrible: sallow skin, bruised eyes, limp limbs and cracked lips. Kylo barreled into the emergency unit with the stretcher, shouting for antibiotics. When a med droid tried to take her temperature he knocked its arm clean off with a swift kick, and almost did the same to a nervous-looking orderly that tried to insist he leave. Finally a stern medic with graying hair grabbed him by the arm, which shocked him enough to make him stop short of throwing her across the room.

Her thin lips were pursed with the effort of not shouting at him. “With respect Sir, this is _my_ unit and unless you have forty years’ experience treating septicemia and everything else the galaxy can throw at you, I am going to have to ask you to kindly get the hell out of here.” He narrowed his eyes and quickly contemplated throwing her across the room, but she nodded her head and looked the smallest bit sympathetic, and that gave him pause. “I assure you, we are very good at this. Now let us do our job.”

Reluctantly he allowed himself to be shooed to the door, feeling all the while like a child being expelled from the kitchen.

He watched from the windowed waiting area as Rey was pumped full of antibiotics and covered in a cold shroud. It was a tense half hour before he remembered his training appointment. He was supposed to be practicing battle meditation with Ghera Ren. Kylo cursed to himself and pulled out his com, typing a hurried message before turning back to the window. The medic was pulling off the bacta patches. She cleaned the blaster wound and covered Rey’s calf in a sleeve of shiny synth skin. He was about to start grappling with the confusing amount of relief he’d felt at discovering her heartbeat, when Ghera burst into the med bay. The human was uncommonly tall, taller than Kylo even, masked and imposing with her batons strapped across her back. Staff made an amusing and familiar show of getting away from her.

“You look like shit,” was her greeting, in the same modulated, even tone his own mask emitted.

“Difficult morning,” Kylo replied, slipping into the well-rehearsed, unreadable demeanor he used with the Knights. “I take it Snoke is upset?”

Ghera shrugged. “Just mildly annoyed. The excuse seemed satisfactory. He’s really interested in this one.” She sidled up next to him to peer through the glass. The med droid was fitting some tubing over Rey’s face, feeding her supplemental oxygen. “She a fun pet?”

Kylo scoffed. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, Snoke says she’s feral.” The woman turned away from the window and leaned against it casually, resting her elbows on the narrow ledge. “What’s she doing here? Can she fight? Can she even _read_?”

“She can read,” he replied absently, watching the orderly wheel her out the back of the unit. “She has a collection of technical manuals on Jakku.”

He flinched at Ghera Ren’s laugh, and turned away from the window. “You’ve really been in her head.”

Kylo nodded carefully, guarding his emotions.

“And you’re _interested_ in her, too.”

The way she said it, he knew what she was implying. He struggled to control his thoughts as they flitted from the curve of her waist as she climbed over rubble to the fragile weight of her in his hands to the pleasing way she’d gasped when she sensed his arousal in interrogation. He was interested. He was very, very interested, physically. But it was easier to feign ignorance than deal with Ghera's interest, so he kept his voice dispassionate. “She is strong with the force. She has potential.”

He could almost _hear_ Ghera roll her eyes. “You didn’t rush her over here, half-dressed, because you think she _has potential._ Kriff, Kylo. You’re like a damn droid sometimes.”

Her casual disrespect only bothered him a little. He was technically her commanding officer, but the Knights of Ren didn’t have a real code of conduct and Ghera Ren had beaten him in enough sparring matches to dispense with formal protocol. But it still wasn’t any of her business. “Give it up. I’m not feeding you any gossip.”

The masked woman only shrugged. “Fine. But you should chip her either way. If you’re really going to take her on, it’s not going to be her last wound. She can’t be in here every week.”

Kylo nodded in agreement. Every person in the First Order was chipped. The tiny nanotech implant on the inside of Kylo’s arm prevented bacterial and viral infection, and the standard issue for females included a contraceptive.

“So you…” Ghera drew out the syllable suggestively, nudging him with an armored elbow. “gonna go with standard issue?”

“Get out.”

“She won’t even know what it is!”

“Out. Now.” He wasn’t really angry, just tired of the subject. And anyway, the medic was coming out to brief him. “You can needle me some more tomorrow.” Ghera Ren made a point of her dramatic sigh before leaving, stomping from the unit with the same intensity she’d entered with. Again staff scrambled to escape her notice, and if Kylo’s nervous system hadn’t still been on high alert from the morning’s emergency, he might have laughed at the spectacle.

The medic entered, pulling off disposable gloves with casual efficiency and tucking her wrinkled hands into the pockets of her white uniform.

“Well, she doesn’t need the bacta tank. The wound itself is healing pretty well on its own, but it wasn’t cleaned properly and now she has a systemic infection. She’ll be in bed a week for the infection, then probably another for the leg. Those field med kits aren’t designed to hold off disaster forever. The next time one of your friends gets shot, get them some proper medical attention.”

“She’s not a  _friend_ ,” Kylo replied, keeping his tone even despite his irritation. The medic raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. “When will she wake up?”

“Could be an hour, could be a day. I don’t think she sustained any brain damage, her vitals were pretty good except for the fever.” The woman squared her shoulders assertively. “Would you like a com call when she wakes up?”

It was a tactful dismissal. Kylo frowned, annoyed at the older woman’s lack of deference but not enough to pull rank. Yet. “Yes, immediately. Set someone to watch her and do not let her get out of bed.”

The medic shrugged dismissively. “I’d be surprised if she can stand for several days.”

“She is here against her will.” Kylo annunciated carefully, voice on edge to let her know how close she was to the end of his temper. “You may know infections, but I know prisoners. Set someone to watch her and call me immediately when she wakes up. That’s an order.”

Satisfied with the woman’s terse nod, he stormed from the med bay. It was barely midmorning, and he’d endured more disrespect than he usually tolerated in a week.

This girl was getting to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medic in this chapter is based loosely on my mom. She's a champion badass nurse practitioner and it's her birthday today. I hope she never reads this trash, lol.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I earn my E rating. Happy Friday to each and every one of you, and thank you for all the love.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some mild descriptions of compulsive self-harm. Some people might rather not read that, so here's your squick alert. If you are interested in the behavior, you can google excoriation disorder for more information. As an interesting aside, many animals engage in this behavior when kept in captive enclosures without sufficient enrichment. Birds, in particular, are known to pull out all their feathers when they're bored.

**Three days.**

The bed was pleasantly soft and the recovery bay had the privilege of a window. Though all that was outside it was more beige duracrete, at least Rey had some sense of the day cycles. It was an improvement over her cell. Still, three days sitting in bed with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and count the minutes until a droid came in to check some vital sign or inject her with something… the boredom was unbearable. She tried to sleep as much as she could, just to while away the time. Sometimes she pretended to hold conversations with the silent sentry droid Kylo Ren had posted in the doorway, convinced she'd trick her way past any sapient guard. Twice she'd woken up to Kylo standing over her, terrifying at first and then just awkward as he tried to talk to her. She hadn't much to say to him, so she mumbled answers to his inquiries until he left. He seemed sufficiently satisfied to merely see that she was alive.  
  
With nothing else to do, her mind wandered to places she'd rather not go. Long, elaborate scenarios for how Snoke might get bored of her and have her killed. Fantasies of escaping the base just to be swallowed by a massive leviathan as she tried to paddle out to a wrecked starship in the middle of the sea. Plans for hijacking a First Order transport and making it off world, just to be shot down by Resistance pilots who wouldn't receive her hail. Or she made it to the resistance base, but Luke had convinced everyone she was a Sith and she was shot on sight.

She was beginning to obsess over the idea that she might never leave this place. She’d spend the rest of her life cowering in front of Snoke, losing arguments with Kylo Ren, and guarding herself against the terrible whispering power that threatened to seep into her and turn her into something angry and calculating and evil. Her own teacher had betrayed her and sentenced her to a life of fear.

 _No one is coming for me._  
  
She'd had two more episodes of panic sickness, both when she was startled from sleep by nightmares and found the room too dark. She’d flashed back to her time in the cell, a darkness and a silence so deep that she’d wondered if she’d simply died, and then she cried and shouted until a sleepy medic came in to turn on the light. After the second one, they'd sedated her. On the third night they didn't wait for her to wake up screaming before they drugged her. At least it made the time pass faster.  
  
On the fourth day, she'd started picking at her fingers. At first it was just absent fidgeting, scraping her fingernails across the sides of her knuckles. But then the skin started to lift, and then she was pulling and peeling at the shreds. It hurt. Her fingers were bloody and the medic was furious. He brought in a bowl of bacta to soak her hands in, but four hours later Rey had opened all the sores up again. There was nothing else with which to occupy her hands, and now that she'd started it had become a compulsion. The medic returned with the green bowl, and this time he threatened to sedate her again.

Rey dared him to do it. At least it would pass half a day. But instead of medicine, she got Kylo Ren.  
  
He burst into the room, boots clicking and black robes sweeping behind him, and stopped at the side of the bed. The blank, glassy stare of his helm was fixed on her hands, which were raw and bleeding.  
  
"Stop doing that." He ordered her, and Rey thought he must be the most arrogant creature she'd ever met. "You're injuring yourself. It's idiotic."  
  
_Idiotic isn't the word I would use but I suppose, from your perspective, it might feel that way_ , she thought sarcastically. It was petulant, but the haughty, robotic tone of his order only made her want to do it more. So Rey said nothing, ignoring him entirely, and absently scraped her thumbnail over the ragged edges of skin on her third finger.  
  
"I will physically restrain you if you don't stop damaging yourself."  
  
Rey slapped her hands down on the top sheet, furious with him for being here, for ordering her around, for wearing that stupid helmet so she couldn't read him. "Am I going to spend the rest of my life in shackles and locked in a room?" She was so irked that she nearly shouted it at him.  
  
Leather squeaked softly as Kylo Ren clenched his fists, and Rey took perverse pride in being able to provoke him. "Would you rather be dead? The medic says you aren't eating. You barely drink. Is this a hunger strike? I have no problem with having you force-fed."  
  
Rey paused, and looked at her red hands again. "The medicine is nauseating. I ate some bread yesterday morning and got sick after." She hadn't told anyone.  The medics were still members of the First Order, and they were keeping her confined. She wasn't going to tell them when she didn't feel well, or they'd keep her here forever.  
  
_You’ll never leave._

The thought kept sticking in her mind. She wanted to dismiss it as unreasonable, illogical, but it seemed more and more plausible. She had no hope of rescue. She could barely reach the light side of the force at all, and the dark side frightened her too much. She could not fight, could not escape, could not even meditate. Rey fidgeted nervously, starting to pick away at the skin on her little finger before slapping her hands in her lap again to stop herself.  
  
A heavy sigh erupted beside her, then a creak and rustle as he sat down in the chair beside her bed. Rey stared at her raw fingers, clenching the sheet, and willed Kylo Ren to just go away. She didn't want to talk to him, to be threatened and manipulated into doing what he wanted. She was fully aware of how childish and self-defeating it was, but she would rather starve herself than comply with the orders of this arrogant megalomaniac.  
  
"Rey." He'd removed his mask, and the sound of her name on his lips made her wince. _Don't call me that, call me girl, scavenger, anything else..._  
  
"You need to eat. You need to stop--" He reached over her lap and grabbed her hand as she started it again, scraping at the side of her thumb in what had now become an unconscious, compulsive gesture. "Stop _flaying_ yourself alive."  
  
She froze, deeply unsettled by the iron grasp of his gloved hand. Something was tightening in her throat, threatening to erupt- a sob. She swallowed it, but only barely. "There's nothing else for me to do." Her voice sounded small, weak, entirely insignificant.

 _You don’t matter here. You never mattered anywhere._ The proud, self-reliant survivor she’d once been found the self-pity disgusting.

Kylo released her bloodied hand, and she hoped then that maybe he’d go. But when she dared to glance at him he was studying her intently, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his mouth a thin, hard line. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then he reached for her face with a stiff, gloved hand and Rey felt a brush at the edge of her mind, tense and electric. She pulled away from him physically and tried to push him out of her thoughts, but the force barely responded to her will anymore. The sob she’d swallowed escaped now, angry and indignant that her mind had no sovereignty here.

“Stop.” It was half an order, half a coax. “Let me see.”  But she didn’t have a choice, really. He was there, but it wasn’t the violent invasion of Snoke’s probing, or even his own interrogation. He didn’t pull threads or pry, just glanced unobtrusively over the last three days of memory.

Rey saw what he saw: Pain and nausea and endless anxiety. Hours spent imagining all the ways in which she might die. Waking up in the dark, terrified and alone. Fighting the medic before slipping into a horrifying sedated blankness. Absent fidgeting that evolved into compulsive self-harm. The weight of encroaching depression.

Kylo sighed and pulled his hand away, leaning back in his chair to think. “You’re bored. It’s an oversimplification, but still... You need some distraction.” He clasped his hands together and pressed them to his mouth, a startlingly personal gesture that forced Rey, once again, to consider his frightful humanness. “Something to read?”

Rey shrugged and looked back down at her hands. She had no intention of reading any of the propaganda she imagined he’d offer, but she thought if she didn’t argue he might leave.

“I’ll send an assortment.” He stood up, and his voice was hard. “Eat your meals. Do what the medics tell you. Leave your damn skin where it belongs. You want to get out of here? Stop sabotaging your own health.” He put his helm back on and swept out of the unit, a whirl of black in the corner of her eye.

Rey leaned back against her stack of pillows and sighed. A fingernail pulled at the frayed skin of her knuckle, and she forced her hands into fists and pounded her lap.

 

\---

 

 **Kylo Ren sent her a holo** loaded with over sixty books from the First Order’s archive. Their collection was, unfortunately, incomplete. The Empire had taken the cache of knowledge from the archives of the old Jedi Order, but that collection had been splintered by the new Republic and the beginnings of the First Order at the end of the civil war. Kylo himself had liberated some texts from Skywalker’s fledgling Jedi archive, but the repository was still far diminished from what it had once been. Regardless, Kylo tried to include a smattering of things that might interest her: history, philosophy, treatises on ancient technology, atlases of planetary systems and encyclopedias of species. He even included a technical manual for building lightsabers. Many of the texts were censored, as the First Order had a somewhat edited view of history, so he tried to include a wide enough variety of titles that she wouldn’t feel too obvious of a push towards any particular viewpoint.

Amongst the other, more mundane works, he planted a few Sith histories and some seminal philosophical texts. And, of course, a clever bit of code that would allow him to see what she read, and when, and for how long.

Kylo half expected her to ignore it, at least at first. She seemed intent to destroy herself just to spite him, and he had to admit it was infuriating. He’d acted self-destructively in the past, but not like this.

 _No_. No, exactly like this.

The more he thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. Anger was his dominant emotion, and when he lost control of himself it was violent and destructive. Kylo had required months, years of training to learn control, and he still wavered on the knife’s edge between mastering his anger and letting his anger master him. Rey had the capacity for rage, but it was despair that dominated her. _A lake of loneliness, black, deep, and still._ He’d seen it the very first time they’d met. Her short existence had been infinitely less sheltered than his own at her age, as ashamed as Kylo was to admit it. For the sake of her own survival, Rey had already mastered her loneliness. Her life had depended on that control, and he’d broken it in four days.

Kylo wasn’t sure whether this was a desirable outcome or not. He’d wanted to trigger an emotional response, a negative state he could use to nudge her towards the dark side, and technically he’d succeeded. But the anxious, obsessive person he’d seen in the med bay was wholly unexpected, and outside of anything he’d seen described in his studies. Rey’s emotions turned inward instead of out.

Snoke had advocated _trust._ Perhaps Kylo’s master had sensed this outcome.

Rey did not, it turned out, ignore the holo. In fact Kylo was amazed to discover that, practically overnight, Rey had almost finished devouring an historical record of the Galactic Civil War, along with snippets from several texts on military strategy. She’d also peeked into Darth Sidious’ personal account of Republic politics, before stopping at a section that bore Luke Skywalker’s own annotations.

Such interesting choices.

When he next visited her, the skin on Rey’s hands was pink and new, but unbroken. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed in a green shift and short black leggings, the synth skin sleeve over her wounded calf shining in the bright industrial lighting. Frowning intently at the screen of the holo, she barely registered his presence until he reached for her mind, his consciousness brushing against her own in an effort to sense her mood.

Rey glanced sideways at him, still frowning, and made a weak and cursory effort to shove him back into his own head before returning to her text.

Curiosity. Skepticism. Still some anxiety, but nothing like the crushing despair he’d sensed yesterday.

“Is that how you’re greeting me now? With a casual invasion of privacy?”

Impertinence signaled an improvement, surely. Kylo pulled off his mask and sat down beside her bed. “Feel free to respond in kind. I enjoyed our shared thoughts on Starkiller.”

“All the more reason not to,” she scoffed, lowering the holo to her lap and gracing him with a withering stare. “Anyway, the force isn’t speaking to me here. Something about this planet disrupts my connection.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. “Because you are only selectively listening. The force is very strong here.”

Her scowl made him want to roll his eyes. “The dark side--”

“Don’t be so dogmatic. It’s the same force you felt on Ahch-To. Its dual nature is more like day and night than good and evil.” Kylo had little patience for simplistic thinking, especially when he knew it was beneath her. She was at least reasonably intelligent. He knew she couldn’t possibly believe the simple stories of right and wrong that Skywalker had fed her. “Are you enjoying the reading material?”

She squirmed, drawing her legs up to her chest and putting the holo aside. Kylo thought it was the first time he’d ever had her full attention when she wasn’t furious with him, and it was sort of pleasant. “I am, actually.”

It was as much of a thank you as he was going to get.

“But I have a question.”

Assuming it wasn’t a sarcastic question, this was a great step forward. It took effort to maintain his casual demeanor when, inside his head, he was crowing his victory. Kylo thanked the universe that Rey wasn’t comfortable enough to harness the force yet, or she’d have surely sensed his excitement.

“Oh?” was all he said, with a passable facsimile of aloofness.

“Why a dictatorship?” Rey asked earnestly. “Assuming republics are always inefficient, which I’m not sure I believe, there are plenty of other kinds of government, right? Why do you have to take away everyone’s freedom?”

Kylo shook his head. “That’s propaganda. There is no sacrifice of freedom. Jakku is in the inner rim, and the Senate has plenty of power to influence that part of the galaxy. Were you free?” Kylo saw Rey tilt her head, considering the truth of his statement. “It wasn’t just inefficiency that Palpatine despised, it was hypocrisy too. The Senate tolerated slavery, poverty and exploitation when it was profitable for them, but pretended to advocate for the people. The whole organization was incredibly corrupt. It still is.”

“But Palpatine invented wars in order to put himself into power. How is that not corrupt?”

“If he hadn’t participated in the corruption, he never could have achieved anything. So yes, he played the same game everyone else was playing, but he did it for a grander purpose. He wanted to bring order to the galaxy by eliminating that sort of corruption and bureaucracy.”

Rey was frowning, her brows knit together in thought. “He was playing the game for power, not for the greater good.”

“Who told you that?” Kylo asked pointedly. He was excited, invigorated by the conversation. It was so rare that he got to argue these points, and he could sense her openness… she hadn’t grown up necessarily believing that the Republic was on her side. She was one of the underdogs, one of the people the First Order could benefit. “Who decided who the heros and the villains were? The New Republic. They won the war, so they control the narrative. Of course they question Palpatine’s motives. He was their enemy.”

“He was a _Sith_.” She said the word like a curse, and Kylo shook his head harder.

“And Sith are evil _, but who told you that?_ ” Rey narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, and Kylo could barely hide his gratification. "Again, the Jedi won the wars, so they got to pick which stories about the Sith went down in history and which ones were forgotten. It’s easy to paint one-dimensional portraits of the dead. But the Sith weren’t monsters, they were just people. They made good decisions and bad decisions, just like anyone else.”

The girl said nothing, just pressed the bottom half of her face into her knees and stared at the air. She was thinking about it. She was actually considering what he was saying. Kylo thought he might jump out of his skin.

They repeated this conversation several times over the next week. Rey would ask a question about some historical or philosophical item, and Kylo would point out all of the assumptions and preconceptions she held simply because she had lived in Republic-controlled space. She was skeptical and very hesitant to trust his worldview, but she asked smart, probing questions. Kylo wondered if she’d had similar debates with Luke. If so, he no longer had to wonder why the old man had left her behind. The discussions were probably too familiar for comfort.

Just having a conversation with Rey, one that didn’t devolve into a tense verbal duel, was a novelty all its own. She was becoming more comfortable around him, less guarded, less apt to avoid him. Her hands healed, and except when she was very deep in thought, he didn’t catch her bothering with them. She was eating well, as evidenced by the fullness in her cheeks and beneath her eyes. She was still painfully thin, but one week couldn’t cure a lifetime of deficit. Kylo found himself wondering how tall she would have been, how differently shaped, if she’d grown up in the same social class as Ben. The thought made him want to pay Unkar Plutt, that disgusting junkyard warlord, an unpleasant visit.

Rey threw herself into her study, finishing more books than he’d imagined she possibly could in a week. She picked technology and engineering texts most often, and twice commented on inconsistencies with what she knew from her hands-on experience as a scavenger. Philosophy seemed less appealing, despite their daily debates. Kylo also saw her reading, in little bits and pieces, the texts on combat forms and force techniques from both schools of practice. While reading an historical account of a battle, if she came across a reference to some technique or another she simply went searching for detail in other texts. Kylo thought it was a frustratingly chaotic way to ingest information, reading single chapters or even just paragraphs from dozens of books while reading others start to finish. But she was a scavenger, in this as in all things. She took what she needed, and then left the scrap.

On her tenth day in the med bay, Kylo casually commented that she could let him know when she was ready to start training. There were plenty of exercises she could practice that wouldn’t stress her injury. Rey got very quiet then, drawing her knees up in what Kylo now recognized to be a defensive position. He didn’t press her for an answer. But the next day she surprised him by asking if he could explain again how he meditated.

He’d done it a few times in her presence, taking fifteen minutes to secure his connection to the force while she finished reading something particularly engaging. She’d watched him intently, and he’d sensed her jealousy.

“Usually you take each emotion and dismiss it?” She nodded, and Kylo sat himself across from her on the floor and crossed his legs. “I take each emotion and try to really feel it. I strip away the details- instead of being angry with General Hux for saying something snide, I distill it down to the pure emotion. I feel that pure anger, focus completely on it, until it becomes less demanding. Then I move to the next one.”

She was sitting with her thin legs folded and her back braced against the wall, with her hands covering her knees. “So, you master them.”

“Exactly. Pull them in, understand them, feel them, and then leash them and put them to use. You’ll find a calm center like you’re used to, but it feels different. It isn’t tranquil, it’s very intense. You’ll feel powerful, but if you’ve been successful, you’ll also feel in control.”

He heard her take a deep breath, and he gently pushed at the outer boundary of her mind to observe. She was immediately aware of him, sensitive to the signature spark of his probe. He’d spent most of their time together over the last week monitoring her emotional state, and she tolerated him now.

Her first thought was a harsh mixture of shame and fear. She was giving in, betraying her teacher, going against every warning she’d ever been given regarding the dark side. Kylo felt her pulling the thought apart, breaking it down into its most basic components. The shame became sadness, mourning for some naive part of herself that was being lost. It swelled, filling her thoughts with the simple, pure experience of grief before fading and being replaced by fear, fear that she was becoming something tainted… and then anger at the lie, because how could embracing her own innate emotions taint her? Why did she have to do battle with her nature to be worthy of acceptance? That anger washed over her, filling her up from head to toe, and Kylo could feel her honing it into a sharp edge in her mind…

He had to pull away from her thoughts. The familiarity was disturbing, as if he were watching Ben fighting the same battle all over again. Kylo’s resolve to find where Skywalker had hidden himself was renewed. No one should be made to feel that their very nature was something to be rejected.

He focused on his own storm then, pulling in all the day’s irritations and pleasures and feeling them fully before leashing them to his own intentions. Soon he felt the calm control, filling him up with a well of quiet, fierce power. For several minutes Kylo simply rested, savoring the self-assurance he felt each time the force responded eagerly to his call.

He sensed a change in Rey before he ever opened his eyes. There was something different, something intense and dark and unknown sitting across from him, and when she opened her eyes, Kylo couldn’t stifle his sharp inhale. Her gaze was extraordinary. It wasn’t the same burning fierceness he felt himself- instead she had a deep, secretive, searching quality that captivated him, beckoned to him, and threatened him all at once. He felt as if she might try to disassemble him and discover him from the inside out, with frighteningly detached curiosity. She blinked slowly, breathed deliberately, savoring something... Kylo was reminded of the first time he had called out to the dark side, the heady, surreal feeling when that seemingly bottomless well of energy had poured into his core. Rey stretched her uninjured leg out in front of her, and a thrill raced through him when she deliberately stretched and curled her toes, staring at them with that same calm, dangerous expression he was so used to pulling over his own expressive features, testing out her own body now that the force, in its strongest iteration, had filled her up.

She was smiling slightly, lips parted, and suddenly Kylo lost the leash on his desire. He lurched forward, limbs uncoiling like compressed springs, and gripped her upper arms in his cool, gloved hands. He brushed his lips over the curve where her neck met her shoulder, thrilled by the energetic pounding of her heart. Kneeling over her and pressing her back against the wall, he brought his lips against hers with a bruising hunger, the violent need that had been consuming his thoughts for months. He was pushing into her mind, so much more still than before, so much harder to read as her new well of power allowed her to will some threads off-limits, closing some paths to him. But there were hints of fear, confusion, and a timid curiosity that he treated as an invitation. He slid one hand up the thin column of her neck, wrapping his fingers easily around it and relishing her tiny gasp against his lips. He parted her mouth with his tongue, tasting her with a sound halfway between and growl and a moan.

Kylo’s other hand was on her knee, working its way up her thigh towards the apex of her legs. “Tell me to stop,” he sighed against her lips, pausing to catch his breath. He turned his head back into her neck and inhaled her rich scent, then pulled the skin between his teeth to mark her in this small, possessive way. He buried a hand in her hair, pulling her head back so she arched against him. “Tell me to slow down,” he breathed, brushing a finger over the spot where he knew he’d find her folds, warm and hidden beneath a thin layer of cloth.

She convulsed against him, opening her perfect mouth to let out a ragged breath. “Have you ever been touched here?” He pulled his hand up beneath her tunic to splay his fingers over her ribs, brushing the tips of his long fingers against the underside of her small, unbound breast. But he’d seen her memories, and Kylo knew he was the first. “Have you even thought about it?” he sighed into her ear, a plea…

“Ren,” she gasped, bracing timid hands against his shoulders.

He shook his head just slightly. “Kylo,” he corrected her softly, because she was so fragile and responsive and pleasing and he needed this to be _perfect_. His hand roamed higher and he pressed his palm to Rey’s breast, warm and soft beneath his glove. Through his link in her mind he could feel the echoed sensation as he ran a firm thumb over her shy nipple and it pebbled at his touch.

“Kylo, please!” Rey sobbed, her hands growing more frantic, clutching at his arms.

He could sense her desperation, her fear, and it exhilarated him. He rolled his hips against the outstretched leg he was straddling and laid a line of tiny bites down her perfect throat. “Please what?” he teased in a whisper. He pinched her nipple, and she convulsed again and grabbed at his hair...

But something was wrong.

She was pushing at him, and the fear in her mind was no longer enticing. “Please _stop,_ Kylo, please don’t--” It was real pleading, not coyness. He didn’t wait for her to finish, just released her and pulled away, even from her mind. He sat with his back against the wall across from her, clenching and unclenching his fists, straining to control himself while giving her as much space as possible in the small room.

When he finally trusted himself enough to speak, his voice was hoarse and gravelly. “You don't want...” he trailed off, unsure of whether he really wanted the answer or not.

Rey was hugging her legs to her chest, resting a flushed cheek on her upright knees. “Not now. Not _yet_. Please."

It wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a no either.

“It’s been a full day,” he said, struggling to cover up his hunger with the flat, unreadable veneer he thought he’d perfected. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t look at her if he hoped to control himself. Kylo pushed to his feet, helm in hand. “You should rest.”

He left, the door swinging silently closed behind him, and stalked back to his room as quickly as he could manage. There he ran a lukewarm shower and when he imagined her, pale and slight and pleading, it took barely a minute before he spilled into his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how much I *adore* the dark side? Srsly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the love on the last chapter. The responses have been super motivating! I hope I'm not ruining it with this update, which I'm pretty sure has marked me as complete trash, as in, I'm on the garbage boat to hell. See ya.

**“That is not the parry I taught you!”**

Crouching back down into the starting position, Rey held her lightweight training staff in one hand, with the other held out for balance. Ghera was sneering at her, rotating one baton menacingly as she circled.

“Pull that arm back, you’re a target!” Kylo shouted a constant stream of critique from his perch on the platform that overlooked the training floor. Rey swung her free arm behind her, then used the momentum to leap up and spin around in midair, sweeping her arm around her body to get in a pair of hits from each end of the staff against Ghera’s block. She landed with a roll, bursting to her feet with a couple of twisting slashes that made the most use of her double-ended weapon. Ghera avoided her easily, using one baton to block her staff while the other swung in at her hip. Rey leaped back, flicking the end of her staff up to try to catch the underside of Ghera’s weapon as she moved out of reach. She connected and pulled Ghera’s arm up violently, and then quickly whipped back down again for a glancing touch on her unguarded knee.

“Ha!” Rey leaped back and moved into the starting pose again, but Ghera was cursing and rubbing her knee, and the session was over.

“Don’t get excited, kid. If I had my armor on, that poke wouldn’t count for shit.” Rey didn’t care. She was pumping her fists and wiggling her hips in a gleeful little victory dance. She’d never, not in a month of training, had a single hit on Ghera. The giant of a woman had knocked Rey on her ass so many times that she’d declared that she owned it. When Rey had tried to pout to Kylo, Ghera had loudly announced that she owned his ass too, and then Kylo and Ghera had sparred to a draw.

Ghera snatched the training staff from Rey’s hand as she continued celebrating. “You’re going to hit yourself in the face. What amperage is this piece of shit set to?” grumbled, turning off the power running through the long, stiff wires that made up the striking surface of the quarterstaff. “You kriffing burned me.”

“Aw, did it hurt?” Rey plastered her face with mocking sympathy. “Can I get the medkit for you?” Ghera lunged at her and Rey shrieked playfully, narrowly escaping by scaling one of the platform supports to join Kylo above the floor.

“Yeah, run to daddy, kid. I’ll have your ass all over this floor tomorrow.” Ghera threw the deactivated weapon at her, and Rey only barely managed to catch it. “Kylo, get that student of yours under control. She’s way too proud for someone who’s been training for ten fucking minutes.”

Kylo shrugged. “Don’t give her anything to be proud of, then. Her left side was completely open.”

The door slammed as Ghera stomped out of the training room.

“She’s not a graceful loser, is she?” Rey was still grinning, but Kylo was wearing that blank, unreadable expression that Rey had come to dread. He’d been using it ever since she’d been discharged from the recovery bay, and was going on four long weeks without a crack in the veneer.

“Not when she’s fighting someone with less than one percent of her training who gets excited over the most mediocre accomplishments.” It was enough to wipe the smile off her face. Kylo fixed her with a serious gaze. “You’re facing off too much in this form. You need to turn to the side, be less of a target. You do it fine in Soresu. The basics don’t change just because you’re trying a more advanced technique. And you’re still too slow. Ataru is supposed to be unrelenting.”

Rey nodded. She was still proud of herself, but she took the criticism constructively. It had been a grueling month, with hours of combat training in the morning and afternoons spent practicing other force techniques. Since she’d opened herself to the dark side of the force, she’d been advancing by leaps and bounds, far faster than she’d ever progressed with Skywalker. It helped that Kylo didn’t waste much time with philosophy. He treated the force as a weapon, and trained her to use it like any other weapon. No one ever sat around meditating on the true nature of blasters.

“I have a meeting. Go run,” He ordered, turning to the ladder. Rey strapped her training staff to her back and swung back down the support column.

Her circuit was a little longer each week as she built endurance and speed. Rey had never really done any running before, as the shifting sands on Jakku made foot-travel more difficult than it was worth. But she found she enjoyed it now, racing down the monotonous corridors of the base. It was a good time to think.

After their somewhat awkward encounter in the medbay, Kylo had completely shut her out. He hadn’t come to see her again, and when the medic told her she could leave he sent a pair of Stormtroopers to escort her to the compound at the other end of the base that housed the Knights of Ren. She was given a borrowed room belonging to Trayt Ren, who was off world doing something secret and important. Two of the other Knights were also chasing down objectives that no one would divulge to her, and that left Ghera Ren, Baltus Ren and Yssin Ren. And Kylo, of course. Ghera was friendly when they weren’t sparring, but Yssin didn’t speak much and Baltus was downright hostile. And Kylo… Rey didn’t know what Kylo was right now.

During her recovery, Rey had actually started to enjoy spending time with him. They had interesting conversations. They debated, but without getting angry or antagonistic. He had a dark sense of humor that Rey appreciated. She’d even gotten used to his constant presence in her head; the little spark at edge of her consciousness, barely discernible, that reminded her he was paying attention. At first it was terribly invasive, and she was shocked that he felt so entitled to her mind. But as she got over the inherent strangeness of sharing her thoughts, she found that she welcomed the company. After spending most of her life in isolation, the unspoken intimacy of his presence in her mind was, for all its strangeness, rather pleasant.

But now that spark was gone, and they didn’t have any more conversations about politics or history. Rey had agreed (not that anyone asked her) to be his student, mostly because she didn’t think there was anything else useful to do. She could keep fighting him and stay locked up, all to uphold the ideals of a hermit who obviously didn’t think much of her, or she could learn as much as she could as quickly as she could, and decide who she was going to fight for later. No one had asked her to swear any loyalty to the First Order, and if she stayed locked in a room somewhere then she’d have no chance of escape. Now, as Kylo’s apprentice, she had some freedom and could move around the unrestricted areas of the base. She didn’t have any access codes, so unless she spliced a door panel she couldn’t go outside, but there wasn’t any reason to leave until she’d learned everything she could. So she paid close attention and put in her full effort as Kylo taught her combat forms, telekinetics, and stealth tactics. But he did it in the same dry, dull tone he used with his inferiors, the same tone he’d used to order her around in the medbay, and it was getting to be infuriating.

She used to find his humanness disturbing. It was easier to see him as a mindless villain, or a brainwashed victim of Snoke’s corruption. But the casual companionship they’d developed had been so comfortable. It had become her new default, so that Rey’s mental image of Kylo Ren wasn’t a mask and a cloak and a threat, but instead an impassioned argument, a twitching half-smile, a pair of hands clasped and pressed to his chin as he thought something over.

And unyeilding fingers on her throat, and a nip at her shoulder, and an insistent _something_ pressing against her hip…

When he’d kissed her, when he’d started touching her in places she never even known were significant… she’d been overwhelmed. It had been too much, too fast, too casual. They’d been sitting on the floor of the med bay, less than two weeks after he’d abducted her, less than five minutes after she’d first felt the exhilarating, restless power of the dark side fill her up like a reservoir. And worst of all was the worry, the anxiety pushing into her heart like a poker… what would he think of her when she didn’t know what to do? She’d been one of a half-dozen humans at Niima Outpost, and one of just two that weren’t elderly. In a place where finding a meal was the most important task each day, _mating_ just didn’t come up in conversation.

By the time Rey finished her circuit and slipped back into the Knights’ compound, her calves were burning and her ribs were sore, and she sorely needed a shower. The living quarters were on the first floor, with the seven private sleeping quarters all opening onto a large, luxurious communal area. At one end was a private formal meeting space, and a stairwell leading up to the armory and the large training space on the second floor. Rey breezed into her borrowed room, which may as well have never been occupied before; every drawer had been empty, every shelf bare. She took her time in the ‘fresher, still thrilled at the luxury of a daily wash with as much water as she pleased, before emerging for the midday meal with a clean braid and a comfortable, skin-tight black training uniform.

“Hey loudmouth!” Ghera gestured at her, then at a seat across the table. A service droid had just delivered a tray of some sort of delicious-smelling mixture of spiced grains and vegetables, and Rey grabbed a bowl and a cup of caf before settling into the chair. “That was okay, this morning. Better.”

Rey stuffed a spoonful of lunch into her mouth to hide her grin. “Thanks,” she muttered around the mouthful. Swallowing, she added, “Kylo didn’t think much of it.”

Ghera leaned back in her seat with her mug, long legs stretched out beneath the table so that Rey had to angle hers to avoid contact. The Knight ran her dark fingers through the curly stubble on her scalp and smiled. “Yeah, he’s your teacher, he’s not supposed to think much of it. But I’m not, so I can tell you it was pretty okay. That victory shimmy thing is shit though.”

“Well, when you see it again tomorrow it’ll be much better.” The friendly taunts were part of their rapport. The competition between the Knights could get intense, and verbal prowess seemed to matter almost as much as physical. Yssin Ren, for instance, almost never spoke except to deliver a quietly scathing assessment of someone’s weaknesses. Luckily Kylo used a training module when they practiced defecting blaster fire, so Yssin didn’t have any reason to speak to Rey just yet.

“The only dance I want to see you do is that adorable twitch when I catch you in the legs with 20 milliamps,” Ghera retorted, finishing off her caf. “So what mystical bullshit does he have you doing today? Talking to ghosts?”

Rey had to laugh. Ghera was very vocal in her disdain for the more esoteric force techniques, and the straightforward way in which she expressed herself resonated with Rey. It reminded her of home, where mincing words was about as common as a floral bouquet, and about as necessary. “We’re working on enhancing movement with the force. For better strength and speed, and range of motion.”

“Sounds useful in bed.” Rey was so startled she choked on her rice, and Ghera grinned at her while she pounded her chest to clear it. “I think your _teacher’s_ got some ulterior motives for that one.”

Rey cleared her throat and looked down at her bowl. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

Ghera's face turned serious. "What, seriously? After six weeks? What are you doing to him, girl?" Rey just opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for how to respond. She wasn’t going to tell Ghera about the incident in the med bay. If Ghera found out that Rey was that ignorant about intimacy, she’d never hear the end of it. "He wanted you pretty bad. It was kind of funny, to be honest."  
  
A lump was developing in her throat, and Rey tried hard to swallow it down. "Well, I don't think he does anymore. I think he’s angry with me."  
  
Ghera shook her head. “If Kylo were angry with you, you'd know it for sure. Because you’d be a spot on the kriffing floor. He’s just wound up about something, like he gets.”

Rey tipped back the dregs of her caf. “Any tips for unwinding him?”

“Yeah, humble up.” She shot Ghera a scowl, and the woman laughed. “Suit yourself! But if you want him to drop that pain in the ass act he’s been using, you can either stroke his ego or stoke his temper, and ego is a lot less likely to get you killed.”

Rey sighed and stared at her bowl. Suddenly she wasn’t the least bit hungry.

  


\---

 

 

 **The afternoon session was frustrating** , to say the least. Rey was distracted, Kylo was insufferably detached, and she wasn’t making a bit of progress. Kylo had been running her through drills for two hours, jumping on and off of platforms, racing from one place to another, trying to move her limbs in ways that her joints wouldn’t allow. She was supposed to be letting the force flow through her limbs, to speed and support them, but all she could think about was the bite behind her ear, the hand on her thigh, and the hammer of her heart. She’d never had this much trouble picking up a new skill before. And now Kylo was berating her in that infuriatingly arrogant, impersonal tone that she hated so much.

“I’ve seen _children_ master this technique in an hour. It is _that_ absurdly simple. If you aren’t going to even try--”

Rey swung down off of the platform and landed hard, facing off with him in a flurry of self-righteous irritation. “You’ll what? Put me back in that cell?”

“If it motivates improvement!” he hissed, taking a threatening step towards her. “I have one just like it downstairs.”

Rey snarled at him. “Oh, you fucking try it, Ren. I’m not powerless anymore.”

Before Rey knew what was happening, his hand was around her throat. He was pressing her back into the column, enhancing his strength with the force so that she couldn’t push him back. Her mouth gaped open, gasping for air. “You’re not powerless? Could have fooled me, Rey! You’re a _fucking infant_ compared to what I can do!” He was inches from her face, shouting at her, and Rey couldn’t help delighting just a little in the emotional display. She was under his skin. Finally.

Deep in her center, Rey felt for the well of whispering power, eager and aching for use, and willed it through her body, feeling it spread through her limbs like living ice. She pushed forward, breaking Kylo’s hold with the force to bolster her muscles, and pressed her lips to his in a clumsy approximation of a kiss.

Kylo froze. For a full three seconds he didn’t so much as twitch, and Rey didn’t know whether that meant he was stunned or furious. The kiss was completely artless, just mashing her mouth against his without the least bit of finesse, and she was sure he would either laugh at her or throw her across the room. Finally he seemed to recover, clamping rough hands around her upper arms and pushing her backwards a step. He glared at her, a fierce expression that wasn’t quite anger, but some other hungry thing that Rey couldn’t name.

“Do not _toy_ with me.” The chill in his voice was frightening. “I do not… _excel_ at self-control. You’ll get much more than you’re bargaining for.”

Rey laughed darkly, twisting out of his grasp. “That’s the problem then, Ren. I have no idea what I’m bargaining for. I just know I can’t stand you like this, acting like Kylo fucking Ren all the time instead of a real person.”

His nose twitched as he stifled a scowl, and Rey noticed it, filed it away with the other half-dozen idiosyncrasies he’d ever shown her.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You talk to me like I’m a kriffing Stormtrooper.” He glanced away, obviously trying hard not to broadcast his emotions. “You used to live in my head, now I never feel you. You used to make conversation, now you just lecture. I opened up to the dark side, against every warning I’d ever been given, because you were a dark user and you weren’t a monster. You were just a person. But now that person is gone, and I don’t know why. It’s like you’re punishing me because I asked you stop, because I panicked, because I didn’t know what we were doing or how to… to do it.”

Kylo blinked, eyes narrowing suddenly. “How to do what? What did you think we were doing?” Rey didn’t answer, just crossed her arms to hug her chest. His eyes widened, and Rey saw him flex his fingers. “Do you not _know_ how men and women fit together? Is that what you're saying?"

Rey swallowed heavily, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

Before she could even process the movement he was leaning into her, tugging her braid to tilt her head up and crashing against her lips with bruising force. He was all teeth and heat and brutal intensity, and Rey shuddered under the weight of his want.

Kylo paused, breathing against her swollen lips. “I need you to tell me if this is what you want, because if you aren’t sure… I can’t guarantee I’ll stop halfway. Restraint isn’t in my skillset.”

She didn’t know what she was agreeing to, so it wasn’t really a fair question. But there was a pressure building in her abdomen, an excitement that made it hard to breathe, and her curiosity was piqued. She wanted to see his hands without the gloves, feel his hair between her fingers. She wanted to know what he was so hungry for. So Rey nodded, and Kylo sucked in a breath and pressed his forehead against hers.

His voice was a whisper, dangerous and firm and exciting. “Go downstairs. The code to my door is seven one four four nine. Repeat it to me.”

Rey complied automatically, in a quiet whisper: “Seven one four four nine.” Kylo cupped her face appreciatively and pressed a firm thumb against the ridge of her cheek.

“Go into my room. Undress. Sit on the bed and wait for me.”

He released her, and Rey backed away slowly before turning and bolting for the stairs.

Ghera and Baltus were in the living space, arguing about some kind of insurgency at an excavation site. Rey would have given anything to not have to walk past them to get to Kylo’s door. In her reading she’d come across several references to something called immersion, a force technique for stealth, and vowed to ask Kylo about it at the next opportunity. As it was, the best she could do was try to silence her footsteps and move smoothly, hoping to simply avoid their notice.

No such luck. Ghera spotted her a few steps from the door that was obviously not her own, and shouted at her with a smirk. “So you went with ego!”

 _Shut up shut up shut up_. 71449. Rey ignored her and hurried inside to shut the door on Ghera’s bold laughter. Teasing wasn’t doing much for her resolve. A minute ago she’d been curious, excited, eager, and now all she felt was reluctant. This whole endeavor was probably going to be an embarrassing mistake.

Kylo’s room was just as stark as she expected. If the door to the closet hadn’t been ajar, revealing a few things hanging, she’d have thought no one lived here. Rey stripped quickly, before she had too much time to think about what she was doing. The training garment peeled off of her skin, damp with sweat in some areas, and Rey wished that she had time for a shower. But she didn’t know how much time Kylo would take closing down the training floor, and for some reason she didn’t want him to walk in on her unprepared. She wasn’t used to following orders blindly- not Unkar Plutt’s, not Luke’s, and certainly not Kylo Ren’s. But this was different. She’d agreed. She’d said it was what she wanted. If that were really true, and Rey thought it probably was, it would be stupid to ruin it by being defiant out of principle.

Clambering onto the bed, Rey felt ridiculous. Except for that awkward and mercifully quick encounter in the ‘fresher, when Kylo had shown her how to use the shower, Rey had never been naked in front of anyone _ever_. So she arranged herself so that her back was against the durasteel wall, with her knees drawn up so that as little of her was exposed as possible. This was alright. She could do this.

Kylo entered the room, and Rey breathed a sigh of relief when no laughing or taunting wafted through the door after him. His eyes landed on her, perched defensively on his black sheets, and his expression was carefully blank. At the edge of her awareness Rey felt that familiar spark, a firm, tingling push, and she let him in, letting her defenses recede until only a few lines of thought and memory were shut, things that were private or that she knew he didn’t want to see. But he wasn’t prying today, just observing, and it was welcome company. The fact that he cared what she was feeling was either possessiveness or concern, and Rey didn’t find much fault with either. He was holding two glasses of water, and he put one on the dresser and extended the other to Rey. She uncrossed her arms and took it gratefully, parched from the day’s exercise.

Kylo started undressing. First his belt and his gloves, revealing long, pale fingers. Rey had never seen his hands, and it was bizarre how intimate such a mundane part could seem. He unclasped his robe and tossed it over the back of chair, and without the costume he looked so real, human, vulnerable, young… so unlike the Knight. Rey felt a little twisting stab of fear, because if he wasn’t Kylo Ren then he was someone else, someone whose name was treason to utter. Rey shoved that thought away and guarded it.

He removed his shirt then, and Rey lowered her water glass to stare. He was muscular, far more so than Rey had ever noticed before, and his skin was so pale that Rey wondered how many years it had been since it had seen sunlight. He was dotted with scars, to innumerable to detail, the largest of which was the puckered star in his side, the remnants of his bowcaster wound from Starkiller base. It was much larger than Rey had thought at the time, and it struck her now how ridiculous she had been to take any pride in defeating him. She’d been so arrogant on Ahch-To, thinking that if she’d bested him once she could do it again. She was slowly coming to understand that he was far more powerful than she realized, possibly more powerful than Luke realized. It would take her years, a decade of study to match him. It made her feel very small, but also something else- flattered, perhaps? She had a strong teacher, who had gone to extremes to court her as a student. She felt compelled to be worth the effort.

He was staring at her, watching her watch him, with a carefully blank expression. Rey wasn’t sure whether she wanted to know what he was thinking or not, but against her better judgement she reached out with the force, feeling for the edge of his consciousness, well defined but pliant like the surface of a bubble. She brushed against it, pushed gently, and to Rey’s surprise Kylo let her in, easily, eagerly, as if he’d been waiting for her.

 _Want_ – not desperate or yearning, but confident and entitled and possessive. He was hungry for her, to a frightening extreme. His emotions had an edge of fierceness, almost violence, but Rey also sensed an undercurrent of fear: He was concerned about her opinion of him. He was anxious that he would hurt her or scare her and lose what small trust she had in him.

Rey was afraid of that too.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, and put your arms down.” His voice was soft, not too demanding. Rey stared at her knees for a moment, conflicted. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to do as he asked. But that very fact shamed her: this man was supposed to be an enemy. He had killed an ally, had abducted her, hurt her (his conviction that it was for her own benefit notwithstanding), had pledged himself to an organization that might still be evil, Rey hadn’t made up her mind. But there was something about the grey area he occupied- enemy, captor, companion, teacher – that made this whole endeavor all the more enticing. So Rey scooted to edge of the bed, as gracefully as she could manage, set her glass on the end table let her arms and knees drop.

Kylo inhaled sharply, though he tried to hide it. Wide brown eyes raked over her like a starving man eying a feast. Rey had never given her form much though before, survival leaving little energy for vanity. But she supposed she wasn’t ugly, especially now that her bones weren’t so visible. A month of good eating and hard exercise had coated her frame in a layer of lean muscle. She still didn’t have much in the way of breasts, at least not compared to some of the smugglers that flew into Niima now and again, but her skin was tanned and smooth and she thought she was probably proportional. Kylo seemed to agree. Waves of his want were buffeting her link in his mind, and he was clenching his fists in that frustrated manner that meant he was struggling to control himself. It was the first time Rey had felt victorious when provoking an emotional response from Kylo without having to feel shamefully childish at the same time.

Muscles tensed as he reached for her, that involuntary flash of anxiety that was the product of a life devoid of physical intimacy. He noticed – she felt his recognition, his small concern – but his want was stronger, and so was hers. His hands were surprisingly soft as he raked them through her hair, pulling out her braid and taking a handful in his loose fist, tilting her head, caressing the sensitive skin in the hollow where her jaw met me her neck. He kissed her, a soft, warm gesture that relaxed her, emboldened her: Rey reached for him, running tentative hands over his hard shoulders, the pale expanse of his chest, tracing the lines and circles of his scars with curious fingers. She could feel his pulse quicken under her hands, and his kiss became more demanding, nibbling at her lips, parting them with his tongue, firm and insistent. Her mouth opened for him instinctively, and he pulled her hair a bit harder, sending a shock of sensation straight to her core, some mixed up amalgam of pain and desperate pleasure. He was climbing onto the bed now, straddling her hips, pulling her against him so that her breasts were pressed to his chest, and she gasped against his lips- the skin contact was electric. He felt it too, buried his face in her neck to stifle a groan, spread a hand across her back to hold her to him. He was wrapping long fingers around her throat, a gesture that should have been threatening but just excited her more. Rey realized that she was losing the ability to tell the difference between fear and desire, but her arousal was such that she just didn’t care.

A firm hand pushed her back until she was laying down with Kylo curled over her. He placed careful little bites on her throat, her collarbone, her breasts. He gathered them up in his solid hands, sucking and nipping, pulling a small, pale nipple between his teeth. Rey sucked a breath through clenched teeth and grabbed at his hair, unsure of whether she liked that or not. But Kylo squeezed harder and bit down until Rey yanked his hair and cried out, a breathy, wordless sound. As quickly as she processed the pain, he kissed and licked the sharp edges from the sensation until only the thrill was left.

Rey arched her back, inhaling deeply. A strange discomfort was developing between her legs, almost like an itch, and she rubbed her thighs together and tilted her hips instinctively. She sensed Kylo’s satisfaction, and glanced down to see him smiling, resting on one elbow and watching her squirm as he lazily rolled her nipple between two fingers. Finally he reached down to grip her thigh, stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of her limb with his thumb, urging her legs apart. He kissed and nipped his way down the plane of her abdomen until he reached the spot where her legs joined her hips. Long fingers brushed over the fine curls there, pulling the skin up and apart to expose her. Rey tensed, suddenly mortified. It was too much, too intimate, and she had the sudden urge to pull her knees together and get away. But all of it dissolved in an instant when he _licked_ her, a quick, firm flick against a spot so intensely sensitive than Rey’s entire body convulsed. She grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, bit her lip to stifle something halfway between and moan and a shriek, and arched up until Kylo pressed a hand into her belly to push her back down. Rey breathed for a few moments, and just when she’d nearly regained some composure _he did it again,_ slower this time, and Rey was completely beside herself. She grabbed his hair, his ears, gasped his name, and he _laughed_. The bastard laughed at her. The self-satisfaction pouring out of his mind was insufferable, but any plan to smother his ego was obliterated by want. He did it again, and again, lapping and nipping at her until she barely knew up from down, and then she felt him- his finger, calloused and hard, pressing _into_ her, curling against her insides. Then another, not very deep, just barely dipping in to spread and stretch, and Rey thought she must be losing her mind to allow this.

She’d never bothered much with exploring herself- he knew, and she knew that he knew. Every touch, every sensation, was almost completely alien to her. There was something building up beneath her skin, in her head and her abdomen and her limbs, like a pressure, an intensity, a _wave_ about to crest over her. Somewhere beneath all the sensation taking up her mental resources was fear: Rey had no idea what was happening to her, no idea if this was the height of pleasure or if her heart were malfunctioning somehow. And then suddenly it all stopped.

She arched off the bed and cried out, desperate for _something._ Kylo was standing beside the bed, absolutely frantic as he took of his pants. And there was his… she wasn’t sure. Rey had never seen a nude man before, and her eyes widened. She could feel his desperation, a mirror of her own, as he climbed back onto the bed.

"Turn over. On your knees." His voice was hoarse now, harsher, more impatient. Rey blinked, tried to gather her senses through the haze of sensation, the intense, bone-deep want in her gut. Kylo grabbed her leg and pulled it over, and Rey gathered enough of her faculties to flip over. Kylo grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise, lifted them up until she was on her knees, bent over with her cheek against the sheet. Something hard pressed against her rear, and she heard Kylo groan. Then he breathed a hurried warning: "It'll hurt, at first, but it doesn't last."

The explanation was honest, but entirely inadequate. He slammed his hips against her and Rey had the strangest sensation of fullness before something broke. Pain, sharp and raw, and something else like relief, some kind of intense fulfillment that she didn’t understand. She yelped into the black sheet, tried to pull away, but he had an iron grip on her hips and wouldn’t allow it. He did it again, deeper this time, and Rey nearly screamed until his arm circled her thigh to press a rough finger to that sensitive spot, drowning the pain in an intense wave of pleasure. It didn’t hurt after that, just felt full and strange and _delightful._ He found a rhythm, and each beat pushed her closer and closer to the edge of some bizarre mental cliff. She pushed back against him, trying awkwardly to match his pace, angling herself to get it deeper, and she could feel how it excited him. He pressed a hand into her back, deepening the arch in her spine, then took a handful of her hair and _pulled_ , yanking her head off the mattress. It hurt, but she didn’t care. The pain only intensified everything else, made her buck her hips against his, gasping, crying, sobbing, until she felt like any moment her heart would stop. And then, as if he _knew_ (but he was inside her mind, so of course he knew), Kylo pinched her, pinched her hard in that sensitive place and her world just about burst.

Rey felt like she exploded. Her nerves were on _fire_ , pulsing with every heartbeat, and Kylo let go of her hair so she could scream into the mattress. It went on and on, consuming every mental resource, and finally died down to echoes, leaving her breathless and exhausted. All she felt now was fullness, the sharp spikes of pleasant pressure as Kylo thrust into her, over and over, faster and harder. He dug his fingers into her until it hurt, and in their mental feedback loop Rey could sense that he liked that it hurt, that it excited him, so she focused on it for him as he worked. It was several more minutes until he finally peaked, slamming into her with a barely restrained roar.

A few slow, punctuated thrusts, and Kylo released her. Rey collapsed into the bed, chest heaving, trying to make some sense of this. Between her thighs she was hot, and wet, and sore. Her legs were shaking. Her heartbeat was frantic. It was frightening, overwhelming. But then Kylo was there, gathering her up in arms slick with sweat, pulling her to the pillows where they laid for several minutes, catching their breaths.

When she was finally recovered enough to speak, Rey found her voice hoarse and sore. “What the _hell_ did you do to me, Kylo Ren?”

Her head was resting on his chest, so she felt him stifling a chuckle. “I _fucked_ you.” He sounded awfully proud, which was annoying, and Rey had the urge to say something disparaging. But it would have been childish of her, and she couldn’t honestly deny that he deserved to be pleased with himself. “Want me to do it again?’

Rey nodded. “But maybe not right this second.”

He laughed, a rare sound, light and pleasant, and Rey curled up comfortably against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote that entire smut scene twice. It started out being done from Kylo's point of view, but I decided he just didn't have a very interesting perspective on that scene. Maybe because I'm female and I have no idea what sex feels like for dudes. It tickles? I dunno.
> 
> AND WITH THAT... I have to take a break until mid February. I have to write like a 45 page thesis and it needs to take high priority for a few weeks. 
> 
> I WILL NOT ABANDON THIS. I'll be back. I promise. I double super swear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied.
> 
> Well, actually what happened was a got a few requests for Kylo's POV on that last scene, so I took a look at what I'd written and made enough revisions that it wouldn't be embarrassing or destroy the characterizations or the momentum in the relationship. See? YOUR COMMENTS MATTER.
> 
> Then I took my mom to the theater to see ep. 7 AGAIN (4 times now, I'm crazy) and decided that my entire plan for how this plot was going to progress might belong in the garbage. I've been struggling not to portray Kylo as this abused puppy who's all messed up inside, because that's a kind of common characterization and I wanted to try something different. I like strong male characters more than angsty, tortured ones. Plus, I think of the two of them Rey is the one with the backstory that's going to lead to some serious emotional issues. But now I'm changing my mind a little. A LITTLE. I think we all need some reluctantly vulnerable Kylo in our lives.
> 
> So here you go.

**Ghera and Baltus were in the living space** , arguing about the best way to demoralize some Chiss insurgents at an excavation site in the Lellin system. Kylo ignored them, retrieving two glasses of water and downing a mug of lukewarm caf before crossing to his door. Ghera stopped in the middle of a sentence to stare openly, baring her teeth at him in a smirk, and Kylo would have given anything for her to have just a shred of deference at that precise moment. Baltus wasn’t happy to have Rey here, and Kylo wasn’t sure if staking this rather obvious claim would help or hurt the surly Knight’s opinion of her legitimacy.

But it didn’t really matter. He was Master of the Knights, and Snoke wouldn’t allow any challenges anytime soon. Baltus wasn’t going to cross him. Furthermore, it only took a sharp look to convince Ghera, albeit grudgingly, that the concerns in the Lellin system deserved her full attention.

The rooms in the Knight’s wing were more spacious than the one he’d temporarily occupied in the main base, with the luxury of a window. Still, his space was sparse. A dresser, a small closet, a comfortable chair and end table. And on the large bed, in stark relief on the black sheet, sat Rey, smooth and small and _fucking perfect_. She was hugging her bare legs to her chest, her back pressed to the grey wall. Her clothes were heaped in an untidy little pile beside the bed. She was watching him, wide eyed, her breathing measured and tense. Kylo reached out to her mind, aching for the familiar tumult of her thoughts, and found her unguarded. She was anxious, curious, excited, fearful… and like she’d said, totally unaware of the mechanics.

How could he have missed this delicious detail? In retrospect, it fit into the puzzle that was Rey- an isolated life, fear at being touched in even the most mundane fashion, too ignorant about her own species to feel at ease. Who would have taught her? It was an enticing opportunity, one that felt almost predatory. He could do anything, and she would be too inexperienced to know.

But that would have been counter-productive.

He’d kept his distance for a month and it had been torture, especially as her power and confidence had built. She was going to be deadly in short order, and it excited him to no end. But she wouldn’t progress if she fought him, might not even survive if they remained adversaries. So he’d withdrawn, because he knew himself, knew that self-control wasn’t a strength he possessed.

Waiting was not familiar to him. The power of the dark side could make anyone willing, and Kylo was used to rushed encounters, anonymous, effortless, where he held all of the power and got whatever he wanted. But this could not be the same. He could not afford to terrify her, to hurt her, to drive her off. Snoke wanted him to make her a willing, trusting apprentice, to lure her and court her until she aligned to their purpose. The Supreme Leader wouldn’t be forgiving if that objective failed because of what he’d describe as “messy human needs”. But Rey was human. They were her needs too. Perhaps Kylo could use this to his advantage, to seduce her into giving him her trust.

A small part of him knew he was deceiving himself, pretending that his interest was still limited to bringing Rey into the fold. That the protective drive Kylo had felt since finding her unconscious in the cell was about guarding an investment rather than something _personal_.

But Kylo wasn’t going to think about that right now. She was naked on his bed. It took enough effort to restrain himself from careless behavior without the added burden of considering whether or not he was falling into the trap that was emotional attachment.

Kylo held out a glass of water, and she accepted it. While she drank, he pulled off his gloves, his belt, his over-robe, his boots. Then he tugged his shirt over his head, marking this occasion as the least dressed he’d been in front of anyone, outside of a medbay, in years. Maybe a decade. He couldn’t precisely remember.

She was looking at him, eyes raking over the muscular frame hiding under the robe. He was scarred, the remnants of years of training and fighting. He had warrior’s skin, and wore it proudly. He could feel a flash of desire from her, and something else, a whisper of sadness, of fear that was gone before he could pursue it. And then, so softly that he might have missed it entirely, she was at the edges of his mind, brushing against the barriers he kept raised out of habit. He brought them down, welcomed her, remembering the sheer fascination, the deep and desperate connection when she’d first entered his mind months ago. Kylo projected his want, all the good intentions he could dig up, feeding the link. Her presence was a balm; warm and bright and unobtrusive. The two-way connection created a fascinating feedback loop that Kylo had never experienced before, where she sensed his arousal and he sensed her shy hesitance and their emotions fed each other, winding around and around in a dangerous spiral.

He needed to see her, needed to touch her, needed to feel her pulse under his fingers.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, and put your arms down.” He kept his voice non-threatening, and she stared at him, bright hazel eyes heavy lidded and shy. He sensed her conflict, but after a moment’s consideration she moved forward to the edge of the bed and let her arms drop to her sides. Kylo inhaled, stifling a gasp that was all too superfluous since she was in his mind, sensing his desire. Tanned skin and small, pointed breasts; thin, muscular limbs; a sparse thatch of brown curls. An old scar over the ribs on her right side, and numerous others, smaller, on her legs and arm- the remnants of a harsh life spent climbing through scrap metal. The shiny circular patch of scar tissue where her blaster wound had healed. The beginnings of a bruise on her neck where he’d held her against the pillar upstairs, with a wealth of siblings, black and blue and green, from training. A flush was spreading over her chest as he stared, visual evidence of the excited unease that undulated from her thoughts like smoke until the room was heavy with it.

Kylo reached for her with one hand, struggling with the effort of being gentle, of not simply taking and leaving her terrified. He still needed her trust, her desire, and she tensed as he reached for her as if to underscore the need to earn it. So he kept his hands gentle as he raked his fingers through her hair, pulling out her braid and shaking out the loose waves of fine, soft hair, pushing his fingers through to the back of her head to create a comfortable hand-hold. He let his other hand ghost over the curve where her jaw met her neck, pulling her face up to meet his. Their lips brushed together, and she was absurdly soft, full, warm… she parted easily for him and he dipped his tongue in and out, nipped her lip gently, still struggling to keep things tame for a few more minutes.

Rey softened, anxiety giving way to want, and reached for him with thin hands. She squeezed his shoulder, combed her fingers through his hair, ran her hands over the bumps and scars of his muscled chest, and in her mind he sensed her appreciation. It fed some vain part of him, making him pull at her hair a bit harder, kiss her a bit deeper, run a hand over her shoulder and down her side to splay across her ribs. Kylo nudged her backwards, lifting his knees onto the bed until he was straddling her hips, spreading a hand across her back to press her to his chest. She gasped against his mouth, reeling at the shock of skin contact after years of deprivation. Kylo buried his face in her neck, stifling a groan as he curled his fingers around her throat. He’d almost forgotten how well she fit in his hands. She was small and solid, less breakable now after a month of regular meals and hard exercise, and Kylo burned to feel her squirm.

A firm hand at her shoulder pushed her onto her back and Kylo curled over her small frame, resting one hand on her neck while his head ducked down to press kisses into the impossibly soft skin of her breast, sucking and nipping and gathering it up in one hand as he pulled her nipple between his teeth. She hissed and buried a tense hand in his hair, but he sensed her arousal. Kylo squeezed harder, bit down, and she bucked against him with a breathy, wordless cry. A spark of pain shot from her mind to his, morphing into awed arousal as he sucked and licked and soothed it away.

She was arching her back, rubbing her legs together, wriggling beneath him in a delightfully satisfying manner made all the more pleasing because she had no idea what she aching for. Kylo reached down to grip a lean thigh, stroking the soft skin on the inside of her limb with his thumb, urging her legs apart. He kissed and nipped his way down the plane of her abdomen until he reached the thin skin where her legs joined her hips. Fingers brushed over the fine curls there, pulling the skin up and apart to expose her. A ripple of shame ran through her mind, but Kylo wiped it away with a firm flick of the tongue against her most sensitive part, already beginning to swell. She convulsed, arching and bucking until he put a hard hand against her belly to hold her still. He did it again, slowly, languidly, lingering to give her the friction she didn’t know she was craving. A high pitched, desperate sound escaped her and she buried her hands in his hair. She gasped his name, and Kylo _laughed_ , laughed because it was so absurd: no one said his name like that. They screamed it in terror, whispered it in fear, spat it in derision. No one gasped his name in _desire_ , said it with passion… not _that_ name, anyway. But Rey wanted him. _Him_. Kylo Ren, not some echo of a teenager that he couldn’t identify with at all anymore, didn’t even recognize as a version of himself.

Her reactions were clawing at Kylo’s control, but in a few more minutes it wouldn’t matter anymore. He ran the tip of a finger down the slick crease of her entrance, then pressed inside. She was tight, untouched, so he didn’t go far; just curled his finger against her walls and licked at her again, pressing her wriggling hips down into the mattress. A second finger now, curved forward, not bothering to press deeply but just twisting and spreading to ease the way. His thumb kept her lips spread to he could lap and suckle at her, lavishing her with pleasure that he knew for certain was beyond anything she’d ever known. She had no idea she was capable of these sensations, he could sense her wonder, her fear, her aching want. It delighted him, stirred up that same dark possessiveness that he’d felt while interrogating her months ago. He was discovering her, exposing her for the first time, even to herself.

She was so sensitive, so brand new, that it wasn't long before Kylo had her teetering at the edge. She was begging him, gasping, clutching at his hair, his jaw, his ears. And she was afraid, an intense anxiety punctuating her arousal because _she didn't know this feeling_ , because she had no idea what pleasure her body was capable of. The last frayed strings tethering his hunger snapped, and Kylo pulled away from her. She cried out at the loss, her hips straining for him, and he pulled at his trousers with all the patience of a dying man. Kylo relished Rey's shocked expression, her wide eyes and wave of anxiety as he freed his prick and took it in his hand.

Her face, looking at him with a want, a desire that was so foreign to him, was stirring something, some feeling he’d rejected so long ago that he barely recognized it. It was more than want, more than possessiveness, more than an assessment of utility or an impassioned need to obtain her. Like a longing, a yearning, a soft thing that frightened him. He had the sudden thought that his fortress of power was built on sand; that he would be brought low by her, by this _thing_ he felt when he saw her face contorted with pleasure… it was unacceptable. A weakness he couldn’t allow himself. He needed her, wanted her, but he couldn’t look at that perfect face while it was flushed and wanton, aching for _him_.

Luckily, she was too ignorant about this act to even know when he was being cruel.  
  
"Turn over. On your knees." His voice was hoarse now, harsher, impatient. He saw her blink, try to gather her senses through the haze of intense sensation, the bone-deep want, and he couldn't wait. Kylo grabbed her leg and flipped her, then gripped her hips and pulled them up to his own. He rubbed against her backside with a low groan, kneading her buttock hard enough to bruise. "It'll hurt, at first, but it doesn't last." He breathed the entirely inadequate warning a moment before pushing into her slick heat, taking several thrusts to seat himself.

Rey cried out, loud and raw, almost a scream. Through her Kylo felt the stab of pain, the fear, the strangeness, and he reached around her thigh to roll her swollen clit between his calloused fingers, drowning her emotions in pure sensation. She bucked against him then, and it sent Kylo into a frenzy. He pulled her hips against him, sinking in to the hilt over and over and over. She was so tight, so soft, and she was _eage_ r, pushing back against him as she tried to match his rhythm. Kylo pressed her spine down into an exaggerated arch and wrapped a hand, unyielding, in her hair to pull her head up. She bucked beneath him, straining against his hands, and if Kylo hadn't sensed the wave of pleasure cresting in her mind, he might have mistaken it her reaction for panic. He pinched her clit, pinched hard, and she exploded- shrieking, convulsing, spasming around him. It was maddening, driving him deeper, faster, harder. He tugged at her hair again, kneaded her breast, dug his fingers into her flesh until the sharp sparks of pain echoing from her mind to his sent him over the edge with a barely contained roar.  
  
Kylo thrust three or four more times before falling forward onto his hands with a gasp. Rey was spent beneath him, shuddering with the aftershocks of her own intense climax. He fell onto the bed beside her, still breathing hard, and reached down for her. He coaxed her up to meet him on the pillows, tucking her slight frame into the crook of his arm. Her mind was quiet, devoid of feeling now that the intensity died down. They laid there for several minutes, just catching their breaths, coming back down to earth.

“What did you _do_ to me, Kylo Ren?” Her voice was strained, but earnest, appreciative, without a trace of fear, and he almost laughed again at the absurdity. It was utterly novel to be spoken to this way, and he rather liked it.

“I fucked you. Want me to do it again?” He wasn’t doing a very good job of containing his self-satisfaction, but given how her heart was still hammering, how her legs still shook, he thought he deserved to indulge. Rey validated the thought with a nod against his chest, her skinny finger tracing the lines and ridges of his past, written on his chest.

“But maybe not right this second…” and now he laughed.

 

\---

 

 **Warmth and otherworldly softness** was rising and falling under his hand, and Kylo Ren blinked groggily to make sense of the anomaly. Rey. She was stretched out beside him, her arms above her head, taking up far more space in the bed than was reasonable for a person of her size. He’d been sleeping with his hand on her breast. She seemed serene, limp and peaceful on his black sheets, sleeping next to him as if he weren’t a dangerous explosive.

The last time he’d shared his bed… but he hadn’t. Ben had.

He wasn’t going to think about that.

The feeling was back, a kind of overwhelming happiness, hopefulness, bubbling up in his chest and threatening to flood the fortress of righteous anger that was his mind. Kylo stumbled from the bed to the refresher, shaking his head to clear it. He started the shower, and the shock of cool water was bracing. He rinsed away the evidence of last night, letting the cold water pelt him for a good ten minutes, until the irritation restored his mental equilibrium.

“Brrr! How can you stand this?” Rey yelped, skittering through the chilly spray to punch the red button on the console a good dozen times. The spray warmed considerably, became uncomfortably hot, and Rey sighed beneath it, brushing his shoulder to get into the stream of scalding water. Last night, she’d been reluctant to uncover herself. Today she was sharing a shower with him. A quick study, in this as in most things.

Kylo pressed himself to her back, red and steaming, and ran his hands over the jutting bones of her hips. He pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to the delicate skin beneath her ear, resisting the urge to mark her. Ghera would be insufferable enough without a host of glaring signs to comment on. She hummed, turning to wrap her arms around his neck, to press their torsos together, and lifted her chin to look into his eyes. Kylo had trouble holding her gaze like this, afraid of the bubbling emotions it brought on.

“Why did you kill Han Solo?”

Kylo blinked, confused for a second, before narrowing his eyes at her. “Why are you asking this _now_?”

She shrugged, hot water falling over her shoulders in sheets. “Because you, the you I’m looking at right now, doesn’t feel like the same person that killed Han.”

“It’s the same person.” He frowned, uncomfortable with this topic. And then there was the warm brush of her mind against his, asking permission, and he hesitated to open to her. Finally he pulled his barriers inwards, limiting her access. She didn’t go hunting for her answer, and didn’t speak, just ran a maddening hand over the back of his neck and listened in on the emotions swirling around his mind. “Without Han, the light can’t tempt me anymore. Ben has no home to go back to, and I can finally be free of him.”

“But you _are_ B--”

“No! No I’m not. Don’t say it, Rey.” He was _not_ Ben Solo. That lifetime felt like ancient history, like a simple, shallow story about a stranger. He didn’t feel a shred of recognition in that eager teenager, naive, earnest, utterly controlled by the immense pressure placed on him by an uncle and a mother that wanted desperately to redeem their bloodline, ever watchful for hints of passion, anger, fear- normal human experiences denied Ben because he’d been sacrificed on the altar of the light side of the force from the moment he was born. “Jedi give up their families, all their attachments, to give themselves to the study of the force. Why is it surprising that I’d do the same? Except my family kept trying to pull me back, trying to keep me from my goals. So I eliminated the temptation.”

“What _are_ your goals?” She was staring at him with those clear, unassuming eyes, droplets of water hanging from her eyelashes, her nose. “Not the First Order’s goals. Yours.”

His eyes darted to the left and closed, and he inhaled. Was it damning that he had to think about it? “My grandfather was supposed to bring balance to the force. He almost succeeded. I can finish his work. I can destroy the Jedi, completely. Finally.” It would mean an end to war, an end to the harmful dichotomous thinking that led the Jedi and the Sith to hunt each other down. They’d held themselves up as peacekeepers, as the victims in this conflict, but the Jedi had exiled those who dared open themselves to the dark side, and hunted the Sith to extinction. The Jedi Order served no purpose but to rip children from their mothers and crush their passion. It was a cult, backed by the government, dangerous in its apparent legitimacy.

But Rey didn’t see it, didn’t believe him this time. Her voice rose as she responded, growing more impassioned, edging towards her familiar defiance. “But then the Sith would rule! How is that balance?”

“There are no more Sith. My grandfather was the last one.”

She gave him a look of complete incredulity. “ _Snoke_ isn’t a Sith?”

Kylo shook his head and gave a little shrug. “No. He says he isn’t.”

“But is he? Is he really? How would we even know?” Rey threw up a hand, her eyes flashing. “Where is the boundary between Sith and not-quite-Sith?”

Kylo was unmoved. He had no reason to distrust Snoke, and even if he were a Sith, Kylo didn’t feel the same revulsion at the word that Rey did. “The Supreme Leader is wise. If he says--”

“No.” Rey pressed her fists to his chest, frowning. She shook her head emphatically, and her righteous anger flashed in Kylo's mind.“You’re smarter than that, Kylo. Wise just means he'd know what to tell you to convince you to do his dirty work.”

Her shoulders were tense and hot under his hands as he held her at arm’s length, putting distance between them. He couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t hear these accusations and not start to wonder, start to question, and he’d killed Han precisely to end that sort of thinking. “Stop. You’re trying to tempt me.”

Rey pulled away from his hands, wet and naked and angry with him. “This isn’t about the dark and the light! This is about whether Snoke is what he’s told you or not!”

“Don’t question Snoke!” Kylo shouted, wet hair whipping around his face as he reached for her elbow. He needed her to understand, needed her to agree. Why couldn’t she see that her life depended on it? “You don’t—you don’t question him, Rey. Not and live. He’s incredibly powerful, and he wants what I want: peace, order, and an end to the corrupt and ineffective government that runs our lives. What else matters?”

The pitiful look she gave him was enough to turn his stomach. “Is this how he controls you? This fear? What does he threaten you with if you don’t toe the line, Kylo? You told me how the Republic and the Jedi manipulated history to control people, but what does Snoke manipulate to control you?”

“Stop it!” He pushed her away, shoved her to put some distance between them, so her soft touch couldn’t tempt him further. He turned away, pressing pruned fingers to his eyelids in frustration. Kylo had built bulwarks and dug trenches, using all manner of logic and denial to kill these thoughts. “This conversation is treason and I’m ending it. Snoke is not a Sith. He does not need to manipulate me, because our goals are mutual.  But if you continue in this line of thinking, even I will not be able to save you from his wrath. Disloyalty is not tolerable to the Supreme Leader.”

Rey looked shocked, hurt, and something else, something completely intolerable that he couldn’t stand- she was disappointed. Disappointed in him for accepting Snoke’s vision, for choosing not to question it.

But these questions would get her killed, and Kylo would be the one who had to do it.

The thought was overwhelming. It filled him with a despair that clung to his nose and throat until he felt like he was drowning, a terror than made his heart hammer in his chest.

“I don’t want you to die, Rey.” His voice broke, and he would have been embarrassed if a wave of grief and fear weren’t overwhelming everything else. He stepped towards her to pull her into a tight embrace, pressing her head to his chest and burying his face in soaked tangles of her hair. She softened against him, and it meant more to him than he was willing to acknowledge. He couldn’t lose her. She was _his_ , she _wanted_ him. It was acceptance, on a personal and affectionate level that went beyond their simple utility to each other. Kylo didn’t want to name it, couldn’t admit this weakness by giving it a title. “Truly. Please Rey, don’t ask these questions, don’t give him any reason to issue that order. It would… it would _kill_ me to have to carry it out.”

Shock, confusion, sorrow… acceptance. Her emotions were usually rapid fire, but these evolved slowly. It did little to calm him, but then she was nodding against his chest, running nimble fingers down his back in the steamy spray, and projecting assurance into his mind. It was a promise, or as close as he would get from her. “Alright. Alright, Kylo.”

On her lips, his name was like song.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've worked harder on this chapter than on any of the others so far, which is why it's taken me so long to update. I'm sorry! But I hope it's worth it. 
> 
> There's a lot of harsh language in this chapter, a bit more than the previous. Just a heads up!
> 
> I so appreciate all of your comments and kudos. You're the muses, truly.

Sometime in the third month, Rey lost track of the days.

This was a grave concern to her. She knew exactly how many days she’d spent on Jakku (five thousand three hundred twelve) and how many she’d spent on Ahch-To (two hundred thirty two), but she didn’t have anywhere to tabulate in her borrowed space, and so she’d lost count after sixty seven. Now she had only a vague idea of how long she’d been held on Rakata Prime.

There wasn’t much to distinguish one day from another. She trained, she ate, she ran, she slept. Every few days Kylo would take her to bed and each time she considered whether or not to refuse out of principle. When she peered into his mind she glimpsed good intentions masking bad intentions masking something else entirely. He was lying to her, or to himself, and a part of her was inclined to rebel against it. But she always gave in, wet and needy and desperate for some connection in this hostile place. She did as she was told, received what he offered, and Kylo made certain that she enjoyed herself. But Rey had the sneaking fear that the more she enjoyed the benefits of her capture- the food, the comfort, the power she was steadily learning to control, the sex she didn’t control at all- the less likely it was that she would ever leave.

Would the Resistance take her in now, after she’d slept with their enemy, listened to his teachings, considered his philosophies?

Rey knew they’d never trust her again. Their eyes would follow her forever, watching for signs of disloyalty, as all the eyes did here. The Knights, the officers, even the Stormtroopers distrusted her, followed her when she ran her circuit, closed and locked doors to restrict her access.

Rey strongly suspected that even Ghera was only friendly as a pretense for keeping her close by. Vigilant black eyes followed her throughout the compound, and Ghera made sure she was never alone on the second floor where she might have been able to access the armory or break a window. When they sparred, Ghera was brutal- an unspoken threat that she was as deadly to her enemies as she was friendly with her allies, and no one was quite sure which side Rey was on.

Only Kylo seemed devoid of suspicion. He slept beside her, bared his skin, opened his mind. Rey could have stolen any number of secrets: personal memories, military strategies, access codes. But she never tried, and she supposed that was why he was unconcerned. Truly, Rey was afraid of what she might find if she dared glance into the core of his psyche. The relationship she allowed herself with Kylo was predicated on the assumption that the humanness that had so surprised and intrigued her was real. If he was a monster pretending to be a person to lure her in, Rey decided that she would rather not know.

So she relegated herself to the periphery of his mind, his immediate emotional states and intentions. Though now, more and more often, she found his thoughts when she wasn’t reaching for them. Unbidden sparks of annoyance, pride, pain, delight, all trickled into the back of her mind so that she could never be completely alone. It was infuriating at times, one more intrusion in a pile in trespasses. But other times, when she lay alone and sleepless in a strange bed on a strange planet in a strange sector, the companionship was a life-line. He sensed her too, reacted to her moments of despair by projecting understanding, comfort, even memories: Leaving Luke’s academy, full of fear and fury. Giving in to the dark whispers in the temple, whispering back to them, and reveling in the overwhelming power they granted. The inherent loneliness in that kind of power.

On one particular occasion, when she laid awake staring at the dark ceiling into the dark hours of the early morning, Kylo came into her room and climbed into bed. She should have thrown him out. He was the one who brought her here, after all. It was his fault that her choices were so narrow. But pride was hardly worth the grief, so she let him still her traitorous hands before they bloodied themselves, kiss away her silent tears, and stroke her hair until she finally slept. It was a rare and surprising tenderness, and when she woke up alone she wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been a dream.

Rey had thought that she’d mastered the art of loneness years ago, when all that she had for company was the sand and the stars and a wall full of tally marks. But at least on Jakku the landscape was familiar, the rules were explicit, and she was free to dream of a happy ending: her family would return for her, would explain that they’d had no choice, would welcome her and love her and take her away.

Now, the dream was dead. Even if she escaped Rakata Prime, she’d be dragged back within a week if she hid somewhere as obvious as Jakku. She would never find her family now. It may have been an improbable dream, but it helped to keep the sorrowful truth locked away: She’d been abandoned. They weren’t ever coming back, whether she was there to meet them or not.

_Accept it. Kylo Ren is all you have._

\---

Today, Kylo couldn’t be at morning training. When Rey woke up in his bed after a nearly sleepless night, he was already showered and in the process of donning the robe and mask. He muttered something about a meeting of the joint chiefs, assuring her that Ghera would observe her sparring session, and stalked out the door with his usual lack of grace.

Rey dressed hurriedly, rubbing the sleep from her red-ringed eyes. It was too late to meditate seriously, so Rey settled for a few minutes of quiet over a cup of caf. She was bone-tired, but called the force into her muscles and hoped it would be enough to get her through the morning.

It was not enough.

Sparring with Baltus for the last few weeks had been immensely instructive. His heavy pike had a long reach and he swung it masterfully, so she had to be quick and clever to stay on the offensive. But he was aggressive, violent, and his hate for her was obvious. Unlike Ghera, he had no tendency towards friendly banter or advice. Except to jeer at a failure, he actually refused to speak with her. Instead, he growled critiques to Kylo as if she were a trained animal that couldn’t understand him. Rey was acutely aware of the fact that Kylo’s authority over Baltus was the only thing that kept him from killing her outright. 

But Ghera didn’t have the same authority that Kylo did, so this particular sparring session was downright brutal. Baltus gave her no time to warm up and didn’t pull a single punch, coming at her as soon as she stepped on the training floor with a cruel ferocity. They leapt around each other for fifteen minutes, and it was clear that Rey was outmatched today. Her lack of sleep and preparation had already earned her a half dozen shocks from Baltus’ electrified pike, shiny surface burns on her shoulder, back, left elbow, and both legs that stung as she twisted and stretched.

Baltus ignored a clumsy feint and stabbed his pike into her thigh, pressing the blunted point into her muscle until her leg convulsed with the current jumping across her nerves. Rey cringed and raised her hand to signal a yield, but Baltus only pressed harder, scowling at her as she bit her lips closed against a yelp and fell to one knee.

“This is Kylo’s protégé?” Baltus glared down at her, full of cold malice that made her chest tighten, her heart hammer, her panting breath catch in her throat. The thin elastine of her uniform burned away, and he continued to press the tip of the practice weapon into her flesh as her muscles jumped and twitched with the current. Rey winced and glanced at Ghera. She was watching in her periphery, black eyebrows raised with interest, but she didn’t look like she was going to intervene.

“You’d best learn some better tricks, _whore_ ,” he hissed at her, his lip curled in disgust. “If he gets bored of that cunt, there isn’t much else to you.”

Fury filled her, fury and pain and hate. They swarmed her mind like a cloud of insects, biting her, baiting her, daring her to retaliate.

_Oh, I’ll show you tricks._

Rey stopped fighting herself and let her feelings overtake her. She leashed her rage, her pain, her fear, pulled them inward, and whetted them down to sharp points. When the dark whispers started creeping in, she grabbed at them, willed them, tied them to the sharp edges of her emotions, just as Kylo had been coaching her for months. A pressure began to build in her chest, a power that took all her concentration to contain, and when the intensity was so great that she thought she couldn’t hold any more, she snapped her hand out to Baltus and _pushed_.

Unlike Kylo, Rey’s telekinetic ability was still little better than amateur. She was terribly inefficient at it, and despite the considerable expenditure of power she could only manage to make Baltus stagger back a few steps and topple over. But it was all she needed. He broke eye contact, and she gathered the force around her like a cloak, let it cling to every inch of her body and coat her like a second skin, and then willed it to hide her.

“What the _fuck_!” Ghera reacted first, having turned her head as Baltus tumbled head over heels. If she hadn’t been distracted it wouldn’t have affected her. It had taken Rey a week to figure out that force immersion only worked when someone wasn’t looking at her. When she and Kylo had first begun to practice it they’d thought that she wasn’t doing it properly, or perhaps that the texts where she found the technique mentioned had been embellished by imaginative authors. But then one day she’d tried it before her daily run, and discovered that no one was getting out of the way for her to pass. She’d walked backwards in front of a security patrol for ten minutes, waving her arms and making faces at them, until her failure to stifle a giggle ruined the illusion. Now when they practiced Kylo looked away for briefer and briefer moments until Rey had learned to hide herself in a split second.

On silent footsteps, Rey circled behind Baltus as he pulled to his feet. He swung around wildly, arms bulging as he gripped his pike.

“Where are you, you little Jedi bitch?” His voice boomed in the open training hall, but Rey didn’t make a sound. She was flushed with power, crouching behind Baltus and waiting for him to let his guard down. She flicked the dial that controlled the amperage of her weapon. He’d gotten his pound of flesh, and now she would get hers.

It didn’t take very long for Baltus to get cocky. He roared a few times, called her a coward and a whore and a kriffing Jedi, and then finally lowered his weapon. He turned to Ghera with disdain written plainly on his face and opened his mouth to deride her, and she leaped up and hit him square in the middle of his back. The blow was hard enough to knock him prone, and the convulsing muscles in his back were enough to keep him there. Rey landed on him, digging a knee into his back and pressing her staff diagonally against him from shoulder to hip.

“Is this a better trick?” She asked with mocking innocence, cocking her head to one side. Her eyes were half lidded and hazy, and the darkness raced through her, stinging and energizing and alive, like an icy wind in her limbs. The acrid smell of burning flesh curled into her nose, and Baltus muffled a shout behind closed lips. Rey leaned down, bringing her face very close to his ear. “Are you bored of this cunt yet, Baltus?”

Strong brown hands engulfed her upper arms, hauling her back. Rey allowed Ghera to pull her away, and didn’t fight when she confiscated the staff.

“I think you’re done, girl. Made your point.”

Rey shrugged in response and turned away from Baltus, who was leveraging himself to his feet with the help of his pike, spittle flying from his mouth as he began to shout epithets at her.

“--fuck you bloody and send you back to the Resistance in fucking pieces you Jedi cunt--”

Rey glanced at Ghera, standing several feet from her with the training staff in her hands. “Ghera, what do you think Kylo will do if Baltus lays a hand on me outside of a sparring match?” Her voice was dangerously calm, the same controlled tone that Kylo used when he was truly furious.

Ghera raised an eyebrow, but for once her expression was dead serious. “Twist his balls off, probably.”

“She fucking _cheated_ \--”

Rey spun around to meet his rage with her own. “Are you going to go tell your commander that a girl one third your weight with nowhere near your level of training _didn’t fight fair_?” A barking laugh burst out of her, and her mouth twisted into an ugly, feral snarl. “I wonder how sorry he’s going to feel for you.”

Baltus just stood there, silent and seething.

“I appreciate that you never go easy on me, Baltus. But if you disrespect me again, I’ll make sure the whole base hears you wail for mercy.” Rey’s eyes flashed, her lips spreading in a sickening approximation of a grin. “I sincerely hope you decide to test that boundary.”

Rey held his glare for a few tense moments before she turned on her heel and left. She huffed down the stairs before her rage overwhelmed her, stifling the near overwhelming urge to put her fist into something hard. Ghera followed a few paces behind, tense and not the least bit amused.

“Hey. What the fuck was that?” Rey ignored her and made for her room. She wasn’t going to run today. She wasn’t going anywhere but the shower.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Rey jerked sideways to dodge the training staff Ghera hurled at her. Her control was close to slipping, and Ghera wasn’t familiar enough with her to know when to back down. “I’m all for putting _Bratus_ in his place, but _what was that_? You fucking _vanished_. That is… I don’t fucking know what that is, girl.”

Very slowly, limbs rigid with the effort of not unleashing her temper on the nearest sofa, Rey picked up the staff. Her words were slow, over annunciated, and dangerously quiet. “I don’t have to answer to you, Ghera. We’re done for today.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Ghera spat, but Rey was already turning towards the privacy of her room. It didn’t stop Ghera from shouting after her. “Kylo isn’t here, so we’re done when I say we’re done!”

The door of her room hissed closed, and Rey fell into a crouch and dug her hands into her hair. She couldn’t hold it anymore, didn’t have enough will left to pull the rage back into her center. Her skin felt stretched taught, as if the power were expanding her with no concern for the physical limits of her body. So Rey did the only thing she felt compelled to that wouldn’t be destructive.

She screamed until her chest hurt.

 

\---

 

An hour later Rey emerged from the shower, exhausted and aching, but in control. The med setting in the shower had healed the minor burns, but the wound on her thigh was blistered and charred. It would most likely scar.

_Fucking bastard._

When Rey came out into the bedroom, still toweling her hair, Kylo was sitting in the chair with his boots on her bed. He raised his eyebrows as she came out of the ‘fresher, the rest of his face fixed in that unreadable expression she hated. She sensed nothing from him but static.

“Baltus is in the med bay getting his heart checked.”

Rey dug in her bureau for a pair of clean pants, grumbling how few fucks she gave about Baltus’ heart.

“I heard you fought dirty.”

Rey’s spine snapped straight and she fixed Kylo with a sharp glare. “He insulted me, he burned a hole in my leg, and I showed him what a fucking mistake that was. Do we have a _problem_ , Kylo?”

The veneer cracked as an appreciative grin bloomed across his face. “Oh, absolutely not.”

He was _proud_. It was better than angry, Rey supposed, but still uncomfortable- uncomfortable because she cared, because she was so pleased with herself for earning it. She didn’t want him to have that much power over what she thought of herself.

Rey changed the subject and pulled a black tank over her head. “I thought your meeting would go all morning.”

“I left early,” Kylo explained warily, slipping back into a more guarded expression. “I could feel it, when he burned you. Then you were screaming. I got… concerned.”

Rey climbed onto the bed and sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed. They hadn’t talked about the strange channel that had developed between their minds, though it seemed to grow each day so that his thoughts were louder, more distinct, more elaborate in her mind. “Are we going to talk about how that works? How you can tell I’m upset with a half-mile of hallways between us?”

He slid his boots of the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t sure, at first. I talked to Lord Snoke about it--” He shot Rey a warning glare when she snorted her derision at the name. “It’s a force bond. It happens gradually when two people spend a lot of time in each other’s minds. Masters and apprentices, usually. Their thoughts get linked together by the force.”

Rey’s brows furrowed. “Master Luke never mentioned anything like that.”

“It rarely happens to Jedi. They think reading minds is an aberration.”

“So how do we fix it?”

It was Kylo’s turn to be confused. “It isn’t broken. It’s a _gift._ ”

She drew up a knee and rested her chin on it. “I got mad and it made you leave a meeting. You don’t find that inconvenient?”

“No. I like knowing how you’re feeling and when you’re in danger.” His eyes were dark, and his lip twitched with the effort of controlling his expression. But Rey could feel resentment pouring from him into her mind. “It can’t be _fixed_. It’s permanent.”

 _Permanent?_ As in, forever? Kylo’s thoughts and feelings crowding her own for the rest of her life?

Her uncertainty was loud in the void between them, and Rey could sense how much effort it took for him not to be angry with her. She was completely confused about why it mattered so much to him.

“Look, I’m sorry I said that.” Rey scooted to the edge of the bed and put her hand in his. He’d taken off his gloves and Rey ran her thumb over the lines and callouses of his palm and gave him a squeeze. She could sense Kylo’s thrill at the contact, still rare when they weren’t engaged in frantic coupling. They fucked, but they didn’t show casual affection, and certainly weren’t what anyone would have described as lovers. But she’d hurt him, and she cared about that. “I’m still getting used to the idea that my thoughts aren’t private.”

She felt him considering, trying to remember what it felt like when the only person in his mind was himself, before Snoke started infiltrating his thoughts and emotions. His anger softened, and he squeezed her hand in return. “We can work on controlling it. You don’t have to project into me when you’d rather think privately. I can show you. And if you need quiet, just ask.”

Rey nodded and pulled his hand up to her lips to lay a kiss on his knuckle. The connection pulsed, hummed, sparking between them. Warmth spread through her chest, some delicate, nameless thing that she feared might break if she even acknowledged it. He felt it too, and fear crackled in the little hole that he’d carved in her mind. He pulled his hand away carefully, and leaned back onto his elbows. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, where each of them did their best not to contemplate what was passing between them, bright and thin and fragile as spun sugar.

Finally, Rey screwed up her courage and broke it, whatever it was.

“Can I ask for something?” she ventured softly, and Kylo nodded. “I’d like a calendar. With conversion factors for standard cycles on different planets.”

He swallowed before replying. “That’s an odd request.”

Rey caught herself picking at the raw edge of a cuticle and sat on her hands, and Kylo shot her a brief smile in appreciation of the effort. “I need to know how long I’ve been here, but I lost track. Do you know what the date was when we arrived?”

“Why would you need to know how long you’ve been here?” He had narrowed his eyes at her, and Rey bit her lip, unsure of how to explain it.

“It’s… it’s like a ritual, I guess. Counting the days.”

“Until what?” Kylo sat up and gripped the hard arms of the chair. “Like the scratches on the wall? Are you waiting for something? Waiting to leave?”

Rey felt a sharp stab of indignation that he knew about that, knew all the details of her life, even the things she’d tried so hard to forget. Kylo was frowning at her, and Rey knew he wasn’t going to understand.

She looked down at her lap and flexed her fingers, repressing the urge to fidget. “No. It’s not about waiting, it’s just a habit--”

“A prisoner’s habit.” Kylo was shaking his head, lips set in a hard line. “I’m not going to enable that.”

It was the way he said it, as if it were a given that he could make decisions about her behavior, that offended her. Righteous anger flooded her, and her voice was sarcastic and hard. “So you can keep pretending I’m not a prisoner, right? That you don’t control every aspect of my life? So we can keep playing this game where we make believe you haven’t abducted me and forced me to--”

He stood up as she spat the words at him. The rage swirling in her mind wasn’t just hers, and Kylo’s was tainted with something else. He didn’t even move, didn’t raise a finger to bend the force to his will. But there it was, whipping around her throat and constricting, cutting off her voice, her breath, the flow of blood to her brain. The edges of her vision went hazy and began to fade as she gasped and gurgled, fighting the force for air. He brought his face inches from hers and spoke slowly, quietly, his tone ice cold.

“I am well aware of the control I have over you. You get to eat regularly and sleep in a bed because of me. You get to learn to defend yourself, to fight, to do all the amazing things the force will allow, because of me. You get to continue breathing--” and then he loosened the choke, just a split second for her to drag in a ragged, desperate breath, then tightened it again. “Because of me. What have I taken from you, since you came here, that you didn’t allow? You opened your mind, you opened your _legs_ , because you wanted to, Rey. I never forced you. I have always, at every step, thought only of your best interests. Your lack of gratitude is _astounding_.”

He released his hold on her throat and Rey gasped, gulped at the air. Her vision swam as the blood rushed back into her brain all at once, and she sat heavily on the bed and succumbing to a coughing fit. Her fingers probed the tender skin over her trachea, hot to the touch and blooming with bruises. But then his fingers here in her hair, dragging her head back so he could crash onto her lips, brutal and painful, all teeth and tongue and frustration pouring in the back of her mind.

“You could decide not to be a prisoner, Rey,” He gasped against her mouth, moving his hand to cup the back of her neck, “You could choose--” he interrupted himself to drag his teeth over her chin. “not to be so fucking passive.”

Their connection hummed, and images flashed in her mind.

_The two of them side by side, halves of a whole, bursting onto the floor of the senate with sabers ignited as the delegates flee and scream. Rey, dark and intense and radiating power, smiling as she burns a charred hole in Unkar Plutt’s pale, corpulent chest, retribution for fifteen years of slavery and starvation. Her face, flushed and eager and smiling, opening her lips to slide his cock into her mouth._

Rey desperately wanted his fantasies to shock her. Months ago they would have been appalling, but now, if she were truthful with herself, she was jealous. His want was pooling in her mind, single-minded and unfettered by shame and Rey wanted, more than anything, to feel something that pure and raw and simple. Instead she didn’t know how she felt, didn’t know what she wanted.

But she’d nearly stopped a man’s heart over an insult today.

Rey pressed her lips to his, wet and swollen, and dared to let her tongue dart into his mouth, tasting the heat, the violence, the sticky desire. He made a low sound, and it vibrated in her mouth, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t pulling or pushing or putting her where he wanted her. So Rey cradled his face, running her hands from his hollow cheeks to the jut of his jaw, to the back of his neck, into his hair. She pulled, curled her fingers around him and tugged him down until he was on top of her, one of his knees between hers. Rey ground herself against it, clamped his leg between her thighs and canted her hips against him until the leg of his pants was damp with her desire. She pressed Kylo’s head to her neck, and he obliged by sucking at her skin and rolling it between his teeth until she keened.

The myriad clasps that held his costume together were vexing her, but she needed to even the playing field, needed to get at his skin. Her desperate fingers scrabbled uselessly at his clothes until finally he chuckled and pulled them off himself. Rey wanted to map all the secrets etched in his skin, wanted to unearth his private places, the ones that made him bite his tongue and ball his fists. He knew all of hers, after all. So Rey tugged at his hand, pushed and prodded him with tight lips until he was laying on his back, his body bared like a playground for her fingers, her lips, her tongue.

She started with his chest. Each scar, each bruise, each line of muscle, each ridge of bone- she kissed them all. Rey buried her face in his neck and inhaled spice and ash before flicking his ear with a teasing tongue. He gasped and she grinned against his flesh, delighting in each response she pulled from him. She had so little control over her life, but she could force a moan from the painfully detached Kylo Ren. It was a strange kind of power.

His thighs were next, hard and corded, and the sharp lines that cut from his hips to his sex. Two months, and she’d never touched it. But Rey had seen him wrap his fingers around it, and she did the same, pushing away the trepidation, the shame, the doubt, and allowing curiosity and want to overtake her. It moved at her touch, jerked upwards, and Rey was fascinated. She brushed her fingers down the length of it, pulled the loose skin back to expose his smooth, red tip, damp and glistening.

Kylo was groaning, digging his hands into the mattress, twitching with her every touch, and it felt _so good_ to be able to make him shudder.

Rey pressed her lips, apprehensively, to the head of his prick. He was salty and strange on her tongue, and she opened her mouth wide to take him in, immensely pleased with herself when Kylo caught his breath and held it, straining for her touch. Rey bobbed her head slowly and the groan she pulled from Kylo was guttural, feral and dangerous. He had fistfuls of black linens in his pale hands, and every muscle in his body popped with the strain. He wanted to grab her hair and press into her throat- Rey could see the image in the back of her mind like a holoshow.

But that wasn’t the point of this exercise. It was Rey’s turn.

She pulled him deeper into her mouth, until it was uncomfortable. Up and down, over and over, she worked him at an even pace, drawing her tongue along the underside of the shaft and running her fingers over all the strange bumps and lines and planes between his legs. Kylo was beginning to jerk beneath her, and finally he put a firm hand to the side of her face and dragged her off of him. It shook her bones when his body crashed against her, kissing, clawing, squeezing, trying to turn her over.

“No,” Rey murmured, pushing back at his shoulders and maneuvering herself until she could wrap her legs around his hips. “Face me, Kylo.”

He exhaled sharply as she said his name, and before he could protest Rey reached between them and lined him up against her entrance, jerking her hips forward awkwardly to push him in. Kylo wrapped his arms around her neck and bucked, shoving into her tight cunt with no pretense of finesse. Oh, but it was so _weird_ from this angle, especially once he pushed her back down against the bed and began to pump into her. He pulled at her legs, draped them over his shoulders and leaned forward until he was nearly bending her in half, hands on her shoulders to pull her to him with each thrust. Rey yelped as he pressed against her insides, pushing and dragging against something that filled her abdomen with a delightful pressure. She could feel the tension mounting, her muscles beginning to coil. Kylo sensed it too. He caught one of her wrists and pulled her hand down between them, put her fingers over her swollen clit. Rey circled it, pressed it, pinched it, guessing at what would work best until she found the perfect friction. The coils in her thigh muscles tightened, but she knew Kylo wouldn’t last long now. He was thrusting into her, grunting, frantic hands moving from her shoulders to her breasts to her neck to her hair in a restless pattern. Rey tightened around him, straining with her own imminent orgasm, but Kylo had already been too close when they’d started to wait for her. He slammed into her, screaming behind clenched teeth, riding the pulsing sensation with quick, short thrusts. Rey felt the warmth of his seed filling her, and the satisfaction of pulling it from him quickened her pulse. She worked herself, so close, gasping and whimpering. Then suddenly she was _empty_ , achingly so, but Kylo replaced it with his hand- two fingers, then three, pushing deep and curling forward to scrape against that place inside her that made her feel like she’d explode. He reached up to pinch a taut nipple in his other hand, and Rey broke against his hand, bucking and shrieking, all the tension bursting out of her like a blown airlock.

She stilled her hand, and Kylo removed his long, devious fingers. He was sitting between her legs and staring at her, at the swollen mess of her sex, at the tremors in her legs. Rey, still panting, pulled herself onto her elbows and blinked away the haze of pleasure. With one playful eyebrow raised, Kylo extended his hand to her. Rey considered his slick and sticky fingers, staring long enough to make it clear that she was still actively participating, before finally pulling his hand to her mouth to suck the salt and musk from his skin.

A grin bloomed on Kylo’s face, and there was not a trace of sarcasm or haughtiness, just pure joy, pure satisfaction. The hollow he occupied in her mind filled up with appreciation. And then Kylo leaned forward and kissed her, and it was completely different from anything Rey had experienced before: soft, tender, completely unthreatening, almost sacred. That strange, frail spark of emotion bridged the gap between their minds again, and at once shock rippled through her. It took all of her control not to react, not to freeze, not to let him sense her confusion, her incredulity, her complete and immediate rejection of this thing.

He _loved_ her.

It wasn’t the bizarre obsession he’d had when she arrived, or the dark possessiveness that developed afterwards. This was pure, earnest, warm and yearning and completely terrifying.

Her neck was purple with bruises, marks he had made when he’d willed the force to hurt her, while he teased her about holding her life in his hands.

He _loved_ her.

With little more than small talk, they dressed and went about their afternoon. It took minimal effort to fall into their normal rapport: friendly but guarded, him a bit more patronizing than she appreciated, she a bit less deferent than he liked.

He _loved_ her.

She barely touched lunch, and the poor Stormtrooper whose mind she was supposed to be probing was knocked unconscious when she fumbled with her control of the force. She was expending too much energy controlling her end of the bond so that Kylo couldn’t sense her conflict. He’d dismissed her failure as exhaustion, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate, and left her curled up on a sofa in the commons with her holo, pretending to read an engineering manual on lightsaber construction while she picked at her dinner.

He _loved_ her.

Kylo Ren. He’d killed hundreds of people in defense of an idea that she wasn’t sure she agreed with. He’d captured her, ransacked her mind until she had not a single secret left, locked her away, hurt her, hurt and killed her friends. And then he’d comforted her, fed her, trained her, encouraged her interests, indulged her questions, kissed her, pleasured her, protected her.

Was it really so unbelievable?

What was she going to do about it?

The low table in front of the couch creaked as Kylo sat on it, elbows on knees, his helm in one hand. Rey lowered her reading to see that he was holding out a palm sized bit of paper, folded several times, and a pen. Rey took them and unfolded the paper: A standard galactic calendar, three years’ worth.

“Today is the sixth of month ten, 35 ABY. I checked the paperwork, and we landed here on the twenty-eighth of month five.” He took the pen from her stunned hand and circled the day they arrived, and in the box for the current date he scrawled _102_. “One hundred and two days.”

Rey opened and closed her lips in several false starts before she managed to thank him. He frowned and sighed, handing over the pen.

“I don’t want to be your jailor, Rey. I really don’t. I want you to like it here. I want you to _want_ to stay.”

Rey nodded, swallowed a lump in her throat. “I know but... it's not the days _until_ , Kylo, it's the days _since_. Five thousand six hundred and forty six.”

His eyes widened, shocked at the number, at what it meant.

“So it’s a lot of tallies to just forget about.”

Sorrow poured in through the bond, and Rey had the numb realization that Kylo Ren was empathizing with her. He was showing her compassion. Something lovers did. It made her head hurt.

Kylo reached out and squeezed her knee gently with a gloved hand.

“Someday, I hope you'll let them go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some tenderness, finally! Are you satisfied with it? I hope so, because this may be the last bit of smut for a while. The plot is about to get... well, there's finally going to be one. Hang on to your knickers.


	9. Chapter 9

Before Rey had come to Rakata Prime, the First Order hadn’t boasted much of a collection of lightsabers aside from some impressive relics in the archives. The ancient Rakata hadn’t used them, so there weren’t any among the vast wealth of artifacts found when the temple was excavated. Kylo Ren had taken a few from the smoking remains of Skywalker’s fledgling Jedi academy, and several others had been found in the fragmented collections of the Empire. These were kept in the armory of the Knights of Ren, but unfortunately there wasn’t a single saberstaff among them. So when Rey had begun training with a quarterstaff, Kylo had immediately put out orders to a number of black market dealers and archeological operations to find a suitable weapon for Rey, when she was ready. Eventually she would construct her own, of course, but as raw kyber crystals were harder to come by than secondhand weapons that project would have to come later. Now the armory had no less than 8 options for her, and Kylo poured over them to find the best match.

Too long, too heavy, shoddy wiring that sparked when he thumbed the activation switches...

Rey’s altercation with Baltus this morning had disturbed him. It wasn’t her actions that were of concern: at least in Kylo’s view, she’d been perfectly justified. In fact he’d been quite pleased at how well she had handled herself. Against a larger, more skilled opponent, shock value and humiliation were very effective techniques. Even Ghera had been shaken by the incident, and she wasn’t easily spooked- Kylo had once seen her shove her baton down a man’s throat in an interrogation. But when Kylo had seen Ghera this morning, shaking her head at the screaming emanating from Rey’s room, her face had been ashen. Intimidation was one of Kylo’s favorite tactics, and it was something that Skywalker wouldn’t have condoned in the least. Rey’s choice to use it represented a promising development.

Despite Rey’s victory, Baltus had Kylo concerned. The ugly burn on Rey’s leg was a shockingly blatant attack on Kylo’s authority. It was brash, disrespectful, and defiant- exactly the sort of act that might inspire other malcontents, and it needed to be handled very carefully. One rebellious soldier was troublesome enough; Kylo wasn’t about to inspire any others. If he retaliated against Baltus it might be said that he was more loyal to his student than his organization, and that wouldn’t do. The easiest thing to do would probably be to find Baltus some bullshit assignment off-world, but that would likely be perceived as a weak maneuver.

The Knights of Ren had no code of conduct. There wasn’t any formal process for reprimanding insubordination because there were no expectations for the behavior of subordinates, and whether or not there even were subordinates was a vague matter. The Knights of Ren respected him as Master because he was the most skilled and the most feared, but that status was by no means guaranteed: respect was earned only through strength and utility. For that reason competition was fiercely important to Knights like Baltus and Ghera, neither of whom had a monopoly on melee combat. It was less important to someone like Trayt Ren, who was a fair shot but one of the premier slicers in the galaxy. Kylo had yet to find an encryption Trayt couldn’t slice into, and his intel was worth its weight in spice. He’d found a secure niche and it earned him respect, so it mattered little to Trayt that Yssin was a better sharpshooter.

Baltus’ position was less secure, and as a result he took slights very seriously. Rey had humiliated him, and it was almost certain that Baltus would retaliate sooner or later. It was no longer responsible to leave Rey unarmed- She was more than capable of defending herself, but Kylo could no longer justify handicapping her with a flimsy, non-lethal weapon.

Kylo picked up each hilt, turned it over in his hand, and tested the plasma blades.

Beam too broad, poor quality emitter shrouds, hilt far too wide for small hands. A pink beam- who would build such a ridiculous thing?

Kylo picked up a narrow black hilt and thumbed the two switches. A pair of red beams appeared, thin and crisp and humming gently. They were each about an arm’s length, shorter than a standard saber. It was just about the same height as Rey’s staff, by Kylo’s estimation. He gave the staff a swing, careful of his movements in the small room. Buzzing efficiently, the blades sang through the air with almost no inertia. She’d be so much faster with this than the training staff. Quick and deadly. It would do nicely until she could design her own.

Kylo tucked the hilt into his belt and returned to the commons, where Rey was still curled in a corner of the sofa with her holoreader in her lap. It was the calendar she was looking at though, quick bits of math scribbled in a margin.

_Five thousand six hundred forty six days._

He hadn’t wanted to give it to her. He’d been furious, in fact, at the idea that she might be biding her time, until what? With the skills he’d afforded her, she could easily leave. She could stow on a transport, hidden by the force, or persuade a pilot with the proper access codes to escort her. If all else failed, she could probably fight her way into the hangar at this point. Assuming neither he nor the Knights of Ren arrived to detain her, she’d be more than capable of getting by Stormtroopers and sentry droids. But she hadn’t done it, either because the power he was offering her was too enticing or because she’d realized that now that she was strong enough with the dark side to escape the First Order, she would no longer be welcomed by the Resistance. Assuming her master hadn’t left her to die, he wouldn’t take her back now.

There might have been another reason, but it was pure vanity and there was insufficient evidence to support it. Kylo knew Rey’s desire for him didn’t match his own. Not yet, at least. It was more of a passive acceptance, which Kylo had been fine with until today. The argument over the calendar had changed that. He was _enraged_ when he thought she might be only biding her time. Even if that weren’t the point of her tallying, it had made him aware of how easily he could lose her. She might decide to leave at any moment, and the possibility made his breath catch in his throat.

He wanted her to _want_ him. It wasn’t the same as lying down and accepting it with eyes closed. He wanted her to look at him with the same hunger her felt every time he saw her, sensed her, felt the numbing chill of her fury deep in his mind. So he’d issued the challenge to her, dared her to give in not to his desires, but to her own.

Rey had taken his bait and choked him with it. He’d hoped that she might show a little more initiative, and she’d blown him away with the ferocity of her desire. His skin still burned with the memory of her fingers, her lips, her tongue. She’d pulled him apart and discovered him with child-like curiosity, touched him with a fascination, almost a reverence, that was positively addictive.

He was familiar with taking- he knew what he liked and how to get it. It had never occurred to him before how delightful it would be to receive.

_Halves of a whole, the flame and the shadow._

Fighting side by side, he imagined them as a whirl of black and red. They’d know each other’s plans and targets immediately, and each of them would always be in the place where the other needed them most. They’d be a seamless threat, a force without equal. They would conquer together.

Was this what Snoke had wanted for him, the reason that the Supreme Leader had steered him away from hasher methods? Had he seen the same possibilities that the force was whispering to Kylo?

She was so strong, her mind so deep and dark and still. But she weakened herself, tortured herself with counting the days since she’d last been loved. When she’d finally explained it, Kylo had been shocked by his own fury, the sorrow he felt on her behalf. It infuriated him that anyone could leave such an extraordinary thing as Rey in a shithole like Jakku. She should have been cared for, valued and wanted as he valued and wanted her. Because of their carelessness, his other half was a minefield of neuroses instead of a well of strength.

Someday, when they had the time, they’d find her family. Together they’d find out why, whatever means it required, and then Rey could judge if the explanation was worthy of any mercy. Kylo would take her to hunt all of her betrayers, to cut them down one by one, until there were no loose ends left to haunt her. He’d help her grow her skills, cultivate her self-worth. Her anxieties were rooted in a lack of control, a life-long helplessness, and power was the cure. Kylo would give it to her. Anything to have her at his side, fierce and feral and unafraid.

Rey saw him approaching and met his eyes with a blank, guarded stare. She’d been distant all afternoon, since she’d picked up (with no assistance, on instinct alone, unbelievable) how to close her end of their bond and keep her thoughts to herself. Kylo was frustrated that she was hiding her mind from him, and his instinct was to demand that she stop. But another part of him considered that she might have a reason, some need for privacy, and so he would wait. 

Kylo caught Rey’s eye and inclined his head in the direction of his room. She hesitated before standing to join him, and for once there were no eyes to follow them as they went in and closed the door.

“I’m so tired, Kylo.” He could see that it was true: her eyes were red-rimmed and heavy. She sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, hands pressed between her knees. “Do we have to?”

Kylo raised a quizzical brow, annoyed. “Is that the only possible reason I’d request your company?” He saw her shoulders sag an inch, and she didn’t respond. Kylo shook his head and made an effort to let the slight go. 

“I wanted to give you this.” He pulled the hilt from his belt and held it out to her, the brushed black metal smooth in his gloved hands. Rey blinked for a moment, staring without quite comprehending, and then her eyes went wide. She looked from him to the weapon, as if it might have been a trap, and then finally reached out to take it.

“Baltus isn’t going to play nicely from now on. If he threatens you, defend yourself. He’s a valuable warrior, but we can find another who’s less of a pain in my ass. You're worth far more.”

“I’ll cut that asshole in half.” Her expression had turned overcast, her lips pressed into a severe line. The calm threat, especially paired with the dark glint in her eyes, sent a shiver through him. The more dangerous she became, the more driven he felt to possess her, to make her his, to become hers.

His lips were dry, his voice dead serious. “I hope I’m there to see it.”

Rey raised her head and fixed him with that intense stare, full of terrible, morbid curiosity, as if she’d kill Baltus just to study his insides. But as she raised her chin, Kylo saw clearly the broken purple skin over her throat. The bruises were deep and ugly and he felt a guilt that was almost physical pain, a slow stab in his chest. He’d been so angry with her, so horrified that she might leave, and self-control was always his great weakness.

Kylo reached for her and rested his hands on the sides of her neck, brushing the bruises over her trachea with a thumb. Her intensity wavered and she flinched under his touch. For once, it didn’t excite him.

_They would be halves of a whole. They would share wounds as readily as they shared strength._

He shouldn’t have done this. The injury was not instructive, and there’d been no pleasure in it for either of them. She was his to teach, to care for. He had a responsibility. How could he condemn everyone who’d ever hurt her, dead men walking, and then do the same?

Apologizing was an art he’d lost long ago, but he let his guilt project into the bond. He leaned down and kissed her throat, let soft fingers and soft lips say what he was neither eloquent nor brave enough to admit _._

_I’m sorry._

Rey swallowed, her larynx bobbing under his lips. Her voice was low and steady, empty of feeling. She was guarding something, some conflict she didn’t want him to sense. “You enjoy hurting me.”

It wasn’t a question, but it required an answer.

“Yes, I do.” She tensed, just slightly. Had she hoped for a more convenient answer? The way her breath hitched when he pinched her, the panic in her eyes when he cut off her breath, the smell of fear sweat on her skin. They triggered him, but they triggered her too. “You do also.”

To illustrate his point, he raked a hand slowly into her hair and took a fistful, pulling slowly back until she gasped. But her eyes were heavy with pleasure and Kylo was sure, once again, that he had found his perfect match.

He released her hair, smoothed his hand over it, and ran his fingers over the bruises on her neck again. “But context should matter. I have skills to practice, just like you.”

There was a tug in the back of his mind, insistent and unpleasant. Snoke. His master was agitated, and required him _now._

Kylo pulled gently at Rey’s shoulders until she stood, and then pushed the hilt of the saberstaff to her chest.

“Go, try to sleep. Keep it close.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, trying to ignore the sparking across the bond and the twisting in his gut. He knew, in his core, what they meant. It was a word he hadn’t used in over a decade, a dangerous word that he knew meant nothing but ruin.

He didn’t, he wouldn’t.

With the mask on, it was so much easier to distance himself. Air hissed as it latched over his face, hiding the humanity he couldn’t quite stifle, no matter now he tried. He led Rey out to the vacant commons and turned for the great black doors, his master’s call an impatient pull that he couldn’t have resisted if he tried. But as he turned Rey caught his hand and pulled him back. She twined her fingers in his and stretched on her toes to brush her lips against the smooth leather plate over his mouth. She was gazing into the black eyepieces of his helm, and the barrier she had placed over her mind suddenly swept away.

Uncertainty. That was the conflict she’d been guarding- a struggle between her curiosity, her want, her deep-seated desire to belong, and a host of nagging fears over his trustworthiness, his motivations and intentions.

_Are you a person I could love, or am I seeing what I want to see?_

Kylo swallowed hard, and stared at her. He didn’t know the answer.

Another tug, harder this time. Reluctantly, Kylo squeezed her hand and turned away.

 

 

It was a shorter walk to the temple from the wing the Knights of Ren occupied. Snoke kept them close, so Kylo could be at his beck and call. Within a few minutes he was clambering over the ancient rubble of the door to see Lord Snoke on his dais, with a video feed on a terminal screen levitating before him. It was the feed from his training room, looping through the bizarre sequence of events from this morning. Baltus was pressing his pike into Rey’s leg, his lips moving with the insult that had pushed Rey over the edge. Rey didn’t move, just took a few deep breaths before throwing her hand in front of her. Baltus stumbled over, and then Ghera was shouting, her head whipping around in confusion. Baltus did the same once he’d jumped to his feet, flailing around wildly and shouting. Meanwhile, Rey ducked out of range and circled him, crouching behind his back for several minutes before she leaped on his back.

“Explain this, Kylo Ren.” Snoke’s voice was crisp with irritation.

Kylo wasn’t sure how to answer. What part, exactly, needed explaining? He kept his tone flat and respectful, despite his own poor mood. He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be with Rey.

“Baltus didn’t respect her yield, so Rey used the force to win the match.”

Snoke waved a hand at him impatiently. “Obviously. But what is she doing? How has she confused them?”

The force couldn’t trick a machine, so Rey was clearly visible on the video feed. “She used a technique she found mentioned in a book to disappear. Force immersion.”

“You taught her _immersion?”_ Snoke hissed at him, black eyes bulging from his grotesque face. Kylo’s stomach lurched, fear creeping through him. Snoke’s displeasure was dangerous, always. Kylo was right to be afraid. “There hasn’t been an immersion master outside the Fallanassi in _millennia._ How is this even possible?”

Kylo had no idea the technique was so uncommon. Rey had done the majority of the work, scouring texts and gathering references until she had enough information to start trying to replicate it. “She taught herself with the help of some books. I merely provided the structure.”

“ _What books_?” Snoke was leaning forward in his chair, clenching its carved arms with white knuckles.

Kylo hesitated, nervous about answering. He’d miscalculated something, made a grave error, but he wasn’t sure yet what it was. “The best description was by Emperor Sheev Paplatine--”

Snoke roared, half rising from his chair with rage. “ _You gave her the Book of Sith!”_

Kylo bowed his head, struggled to contain the hammering in his chest. “Forgive me, my lord- I thought I was heeding your advice. You suggested I answer her questions and indulge her curiosity.”

The supreme leader’s shouting was loud enough to hurt his ears. “Questions about methods appropriate for her skill level! I did not suggest you give her free access to books only a dozen pairs of eyes have ever seen! Did you also let her play dress-up with the Muur Amulet and use holocrons for chess pieces?”

Kylo ignored the insulting sarcasm. It was bait, and he wasn't stupid enough to take it. "I thought she would find the text persuasive. That it might sway her to our cause.” He might have been been correct, on that account. Rey was steadily embracing the dark side, eschewing more and more of her frustrating morality and self-denial.

Snoke settled back in his chair, seething. “And have you tried this _immersion_ yourself?”

“I… am unable to achieve it.” Kylo had tried, had struggled for a month and been unable to make any headway. There was something about the peculiar way one had to pull the force into their skin that Kylo couldn’t master. Rey, on the other hand, had picked it up in a week.

“Neither am I.” This shocked Kylo. He’d had no idea there were techniques Snoke wasn’t proficient in. Then again, Kylo had never seen Snoke use most of the skills he instructed Kylo in. Kylo could feel Snoke’s power, a crushing black mass that squirmed and seethed. He’d always just assumed that Snoke could do anything with it, bind that power to any passing whim.

“So your student, training for less than a year, whose loyalty is yet uncertain, has mastered a force technique that neither of us are capable of which allows her move completely unseen. Surely you are not so stupid that you cannot see why this is of concern.”

Kylo swallowed the bile rising in his throat. If his master thought Rey was a danger to them and ordered him to eliminate her, could he do it? Could he live with himself afterwards? There was nothing else to do but try to convince Snoke that Rey was his willing tool. It wasn’t too much of an obfuscation. She was untested, but at this point Kylo was convinced that she would rather fight with him than against him. “I believe her loyalty is certain, my lord. She is... very obedient.”

“To you.”

“I am her teacher--”

“And I am yours!” Snoke was shouting again, the scar tissue that marred his face twisted with anger. “I do not have your confidence in her, Kylo Ren. You’ve given her far too much freedom, and now you are constructing a very dangerous weapon. What will happen when I give you an order that she refuses?”

“She will do as I ask of her. I have no doubts.” But it was a lie. She hated Snoke. She would reject any order that came from him if she could.

Snoke's voice was a hiss, and dread constricted Kylo's chest. “I will judge for myself.”

The immense weight of Snoke’s consciousness slammed into him, and Kylo’s mind exploded with fear. Snoke would know everything. The supreme leader would find out how tenuous her loyalty was, how little she respected him, how boldly she argued with the First Order’s perspectives on history and ethics. He would discover that the only proof Kylo had of her loyalty to the First Order was that she was perfectly capable of leaving and hadn’t done so yet. Now she was armed and deadly and undetectable, and Snoke was going to order Kylo to undo it, all of it, all the trust he had built.

Kylo fell to his knees as Snoke crashed into his mind, the mass of his master’s power too much to bear standing up. Snoke’s presence was black and pervasive, viscous enough to choke. Kylo’s back bowed under the weight of it, and behind his mask he squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the throbbing pain in his skull. It had been months since his master had done this, and each time Kylo prayed would be the last. He’d never dream of insulting his teacher by resisting, but it was natural to dread an unpleasant experience. Breathing was difficult, thinking was a chore. The last four months flashed in his mind, like a holoshow playing too fast, flicking through dull days of training and sparring, punctuated by moments of discovery, of triumph, of pleasure. There was no sense in modesty. Snoke would see everything.

Rey’s lips around his cock. The wild need in her eyes as he brought her to the edge.

_You think her obeisance in your disgusting mating act is loyalty?_

In the shower with Rey, arguing about the Jedi and the Sith, about Snoke. Ben’s name on her treasonous lips.

**_LIAR._ **

Kylo’s vision of them side by side, a terrible force without equal.

_An interesting goal. **Let me show you mine.**_

The image was not his, was not seen through his eyes. He was Snoke, near twelve feet tall, gazing down at two figures at his feet. Kylo saw himself, on his knees as he was now, and beside him was Rey. She was genuflecting, her forehead pressed to the cool stone, beautiful and powerful and utterly cowed before him. Snoke’s loyal servant, willing and devoted, with no ambition but to carry out his whims.

_We should have had years to bring her to her knees. But you’ve taught her too much, too soon, Kylo Ren. She is a danger to us now, and you are running out of time._

Finally it was done, a mere ten minutes that stretched on for days. Kylo had the urge to scream with relief as the thick blackness lifted from him, but quickly stifled it. Instead, he reached for the force, pulled its strength into his limbs, and stood. Snoke wasn’t ordering him to kill her, and his heart thumped with feeble hope. He still had a chance to fix this. Somehow he had to convince her, had to make her understand that joining Snoke was the only option.

 “This emotional attachment you harbor towards her is revolting.” Kylo’s head snapped up, his immediate instinct to deny it. But Snoke was still furious, leaning far forward in his chair, eyes narrowed. “Do not lie, Kylo Ren! Your mind reeks of it.”

In the face of his master, it was impossible to deny. He loved her. He was driven to protect her, to keep her from harm. His entire motivation for bringing her here had been to preserve her life by making her strong. It was an unspeakable failure, and Kylo had a sudden craving for pain, anywhere, some physical sensation to drown out the fear and shame that filled every corner of his mind.

Snoke’s voice was dangerously quiet, a threatening quality that made Kylo’s stomach twist.

“You will cut away this weakness, or I will do it for you. Because of your incompetence, this experiment is failing. Bring your student to hand, Kylo Ren. Quickly and by any means necessary.” The creature leaned forward in his chair again, fixing Kylo with a black stare. “Are my instructions clear?”

“Yes, my lord.” Kylo rasped. His throat was dry and his hands were shaking, and it was a relief when Snoke waved an impatient hand to dismiss him. Kylo all but fled from the temple, eager to escape the clinging blackness still stuck in a few lonely corners of his mind.

Kylo had not questioned his teacher in years. Since he had destroyed Luke’s academy, Snoke’s word had been law, without exception. But Snoke’s vision of Rey, bowed and brainwashed, nauseated him. She was a fierce thing, clever and thoughtful, and _she deserved better_. Had she escaped one slave master just to bow to another? But the alternative was a vision of Rey dead at his feet. There was no other option.

He could feel her through the bond, waves of worry and confusion. She’d sensed all of his fear, his dread, his doubt, and didn’t know how to respond.

 _Lord Snoke is upset,_ he explained.

Flashes of fury, of hate- of violence. _No!_ No, she needed to stop thinking that way. He couldn’t keep her safe if she thought these things.

Then, confusion. _Is that you, Kylo?_

He didn’t know what she meant. He was staggering down the corridor, three turns from the Knights’ wing. Fear and fury, and Kylo began to run. _There’s someone in my room!_

He willed the force into his legs, bracing his tired joints, and raced down the last two hallways to the red and black door of their compound. Bursting through, he found a crowd in the commons- Yissn, Baltus, Ghera, and a confused service droid toting a trunk, all staring at Rey’s open door. A great deal of shouting was emanating from the darkened room.

Kylo entered to find Rey bathed in red light, pinning someone to the wall with her saberstaff. Her lip was curled in a snarl and Kylo thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Kylo! Damnit, call her off!” the voice was high pitched and electronically modulated. Behind his mask, Kylo’s brows shot up in recognition.

Trayt Ren - This was his room, technically. Kylo put a calm hand on Rey’s shoulder and gently urged her back. _It’s alright, he meant no harm. You’re sleeping in his bed, after all._ Rey’s eyes widened in surprise, and she stepped back and deactivated her staff. Kylo thumbed the lights from the console by the door.

“Trayt. You’re supposed to be monitoring comm around D’Qar.”

The small man sighed and pulled off his helm, wiping sweat soaked hair away from the cybernetics implant that was where his left eye used to be. He was young, barely out of his teens, but he was hands-down the best slicer Kylo had ever seen. “Yeah, I’ve been doing a fucking good job. Wait until you hear it, you’re gonna kriffing flip.”

Kylo stared at him and waited, shrugging expectantly when Trayt didn’t immediately spill. The young man sighed, annoyed at being denied the opportunity for dramatics, before donning a wry grin. He was almost giddy from the exciting news.

“Luke Skywalker called home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once had a character on SWTOR with a magenta saberstaff. I'm ashamed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the flu! I am no longer in the fetal position, so here's a chapter.
> 
> This chapter was haaaaard. I kept changing my mind about what needed to happen here, and it's a lot of stuff. So yeah. I hope it fit in alright.
> 
> In case you care to get into my head, [here's what I'm listening to for this chapter.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aJbeLbsOGY&noredirect=1)
> 
> ALSO, I have bowed to pressure and created a tumblr. [It is here.](http://hyperscanvindicator.tumblr.com/) So feel free to come and connect if you are so inclined.

“Luke Skywalker called home.”

The little creep was snickering as he delivered his news, and Rey squeezed the hilt of her staff. She was grateful for its heft and its smooth, warm surface, but mostly it was the implied change in status that she clung to. She could have easily killed Trayt, and she almost had. He’d been standing over the bed, masked and clad all in black but too small and spindly, just a poorly designed copy of Kylo. His energy was all wrong, slimy and shallow like a little puddle of algae-ridden water. Rey hadn’t waited for him to explain himself, she’d just grabbed the staff from her headboard and pushed him into the wall. She was sleeping. He was a stranger. He was in her space. No other justification was required.

There was a buzzing voice in her head reminding her of how wrong that was, that the most violent option wasn’t supposed to be her first instinct. Rey swatted it down. That part of her didn’t serve well here. Pacifism was a luxury reserved for those who could take survival for granted.

“I hope you have more to report than his brotherly love for General Organa,” Kylo drawled. He swept into the commons, where the tense gathering of Knights was waiting. Trayt followed at Kylo’s heels, overproud, overeager.

“He’s on Dantooine. I did a flyby to be sure, and there’s no local comm chatter, not even a holonet connection. The Resistance definitely doesn’t have a presence there.”

“There’s an old Rebel base on Dantooine,” Yssin pointed out calmly. The gaunt Knight was leaning against his doorway, the very picture of composure. His perpetually flat affect was somewhat disturbing.

By contrast, Kylo was flexing his fingers and projecting his excitement in the bond. “And an ancient Jedi Enclave.”

“What’s the more likely draw?” Ghera wondered aloud, black eyes intensely focused. Tension hung in the air like smoke, ominous and acrid and sticking in Rey’s chest.

“The enclave,” Kylo muttered. “Strategic conference. Right now.”

They all began to converge on the conference room door at the far end of the commons. Rey burst out of the doorway of her – Trayt’s – room and held Kylo back, sharp fingers catching in the tattered edges of his cowl.

“Don’t do this, Kylo,” she hissed. “You don’t need to kill Luke to prove--”

“Go to my room and wait.” His voice was impassive beneath the mask, and Rey hated it more than ever.

“Why does this stupid legacy even matter to you?” Rey demanded, tugging on his robe and resisting the urge to stamp her foot. “This doesn’t have to be who you are.”

He leaned in close, their faces just inches apart. “Who else would I be, Rey? _Ben_? A sniveling child in too-big shoes? Would that be more convenient for you?”

It would have been. Shut away in the base, with nothing to do but train and read and discuss history, it was easy to forget who he was and what he had done. Rey said nothing, just chewed her lower lip, and Kylo continued.

“I have protected you from the realities here, Rey. More than you know. But no one is protecting _me_. I don’t have the luxury of choice. Skywalker is an old man who has abandoned the galaxy, and you want me to lay down my life for his? To lay down _yours_?”

Rey expected his anger, but his fear was out of place. Again Rey could only wonder what power Snoke held over him as she peered into the dark maelstrom of his mind, too frightened to look more closely. She didn’t have to dig through his mind, though, to know that he was more than this. Rey remembered the night he came into her room to hold her until she fell asleep, the day he begged her not to cross Snoke, his silent apology mere hours ago. He wasn’t the monster he was pretending to be.

Who would he be then, without this fear?

“Then leave with me, if you’re so afraid. Please Kylo, let’s just leave this place and go somewhere else--”

“Like the _Resistance_?” He spat, disgust rolling off him in waves.

“No, just… I don’t know, the outer rim somewhere. Just us.” Rey pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him, pressed her forehead to his chest, inhaled the scent of ashes. “Fuck this war, Kylo,” she mumbled into his robes. “You didn’t start it, you don’t owe these people anything. You’re fighting this battle your grandfather started, that your parents fought, but what about what you want?”

He was stiff in her arms, tense and unsure. She could feel his conflict, a battle of fear and frustration and sorrow. When he finally spoke his voice was hoarse, and Rey wondered what his expression was beneath all the steel and black leather.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” The rejection pained him, clearly. Kylo caught her wrists and pulled them away from his robe, disentangling them before turning towards the conference room. “Wait for me in my room. This won’t take long.”

The door slammed. The bond went silent.

Rey stood in the commons for a moment, unexpectedly numb. Then, with little thought or ceremony, she returned to her borrowed room and stuffed the meager contents of her drawers into a pillowcase, collected her saberstaff and, as an afterthought, slung the training staff over her shoulder, just in case. Rey rummaged in the food prep area in the commons, pilfering several meal bars and canteens of water. The only other thing she owned was the calendar Kylo had given her just hours ago. Rey tucked it into her bundle with care.

If Rey had believed that killing Luke might have brought Kylo any peace then she might have been more conflicted. But to Rey, Kylo’s insecurity was transparent. The man’s worth, his power, his fulfillment, his inspiration were all wrapped up in that terrifying creature crouched on a throne in the temple. Killing Luke Skywalker would not free him. It would only enslave him further, as Han’s death had done.

The force swelled forward at her call, and Rey immersed herself and fled.

Escaping the base that had been her grudging home for over three months was startlingly easy. Rey knew the halls as well as she knew the guts of the _Inflictor_ now. At the door to the landing bay, Rey simply flattened herself against the wall and waited. It only took minutes for a member of the maintenance staff to open the door, and Rey slipped out into the tropical night air of Rakata Prime.

On the landing pad, inexplicably unattended, perched a fascinating craft made all the more stunning by its sheer availability. Flat black and needle-like, with thin stabilizers like segmented legs… it was obviously built for recon. Rey had no doubt this was Trayt Ren’s transport, and it was just sitting on the landing pad, almost suspiciously inviting.

The starship graveyard hadn’t had one of these, but once in the cockpit Rey was delighted to see controls very similar to the TIE series, which she’d clocked hundreds of hours simulating. She spared a moment to admire the modifications as the ship powered up with a whine no louder than a speeder. A class 0.7 hyperdrive that would be almost as fast as the _Falcon’_ s _,_ an array of specialized sensor jammers, a shiny CGT that looked to be newly installed, and a blind band augmentation on the hypercomm… Trayt gave her the creeps, but Rey had to admit he traveled in style.

The takeoff was almost silent. As she burned atmo, there was no hail on the comm. Rey laughed, giddy at the sheer absurdity of escaping the First Order without so much as a blink in her direction. She might as well have been a ghost. How long would it take them to discover the ship was missing?

The Unknown Regions were unknown because the hyperlanes were notoriously difficult to navigate, and Rey had almost no experience with actual interstellar travel. But the First Order was nothing if not organized: Dantooine was in the navcom database, and the ship had the latest hyperlane maps installed. The stealth transport slipped into hyperspace like a dart into water, and Rey crossed her arms and found a bare bit of dash for her feet. For the first time in nearly a day, she closed her eyes and slept.

 

Dantooine was a rich olive green world of hills and mountains and tall grasses. Kylo had mentioned an ancient Jedi Enclave, and Rey remembered reading about it once. During the Old Sith Wars it had been the site of some important event or other and it was, thankfully, marked on the database map. Rey brought her stolen ship down beside a stand of spiky trees, fumbling slightly with the landing gear but nonetheless managing to avoid damaging her stolen transport. She pulled a long grey vest over her black garb, fastened her belt and clipped the hilt of her saberstaff to it. After a moment’s hesitance, Rey shook out her braid and rearranged her hair into the familiar trio of knots.

The moment she swung out of the ship’s hatch she opened to the Force, searching for Luke’s bright signature. It was there, nearby, but much more startling was the quality of the Force itself: the _Light_. So much of it, so easy to reach. On Rakata Prime reaching the light side of the Force had been like staring at a single star in the heavens, a pinpoint of light that flickered and vanished if she looked directly at it. Here it was a sun once more, and its warmth seeped into her bones and filled her with _rightness_ until she actually laughed, giddy and grateful for the comfortable, familiar touch. The darkness was there too, of course, and her pool of inner strength was now dappled with both light and shadow like the sun shining through foliage.

The enclave was half buried, though a modern excavation seemed to have cleared the majority of the interior. Rey followed the call of Luke’s force signature, passing through several courtyards and ruined chambers into a corridor that ran into the side of a hill, where the rest of the structure lay buried. Further in was an open space filled with bits of debris – books, small bits of tech, some more bizarre objects that Rey couldn’t identify. It seemed like a library, perhaps. Hallways ran off the tiered space in each direction, and Rey stopped for a moment to orient herself before starting towards a corridor leading off the room to the left.

“Stop right there,” came a terse command. Rey spun to see a well-seasoned woman with a blaster rifle pointed at her chest. The firebird of the Resistance was displayed prominently on her upper arm, and suddenly behind her there was another, and then more around and above her on the upper floors of the open room. Dozens of fighters, all aiming the barrels of their weapons at her. “Hands where we can see them, slowly. Don’t be an idiot.”

Rey hesitantly raised her empty hands and fought down a surge of panic. They didn’t know she’d left the First Order to warn Luke. All they saw was a girl with a recon ship, a black uniform, and a lightsaber on her hip. She must have looked suspiciously like an assassin, and of course they were wary.

Why was a squad of Resistance fighters here? Luke was supposed to be alone.

A familiar voice broke through her speculation, a wavering sigh tinged with disbelief.

" _Rey…_ I can’t believe it." Luke all but ran from the shadow of the corridor, stopping just an arm’s length from where she was standing. His eyes were wide but happy, and he hesitated only a moment before wrapping her in a firm hug. Rey couldn’t help her initial reaction: she tensed, but only slightly and only for a moment. Luke leaned back with a genuine smile, if a little pained at the edges, and glanced over her. “You’ve changed, Rey. I didn’t recognize your presence.”

Rey nodded, lips pressed into a thin smile. “There isn’t much time, Master Luke. Kylo Ren is coming, he knows you’re here. He may be only an hour behind me, possibly even less.”

Luke sighed, and the smile slipped from his face. “Yes, we know. We're here to detain him when he arrives."

"Detain him for what?" Rey blurted out, incredulity written plainly on her face. "He's intercepted your communication with the general and he's coming to kill you. You have to leave!"  
  
 "Calm down, Rey.” Luke dropped his hands from her shoulders, and his expression turned dark. “I sent the transmission for precisely that reason. The Resistance held a tribunal. He's to be sentenced as soon as we can get him in front of the grand jury."

Rey froze, holding her breath for the second it took to figure out the deception. She felt as if she'd just been punched in the gut. They'd held a trial and convicted him without him even being present. This was a trap, a planned extradition. What kind of justice was this?  
  
"They'll execute him, Luke!" What other outcome could there possibly be under these circumstances? Rey stayed out of Kylo's memories, but Tuanul had been big news on Jakku and Rey doubted it was the first such massacre. The thought of the evidence piled against him made Rey want to vomit. Had Finn testified? Had Poe?  
  
Luke nodded gravely. "That's very likely."  
  
"He's your nephew!" She cried, refusing to believe that Luke, of all people, could condone this.  
  
Despair clouded the tired eyes of her old master, and his voice turned hard. "Kylo Ren murdered my nephew, Rey, along with forty seven apprentices. The youngest was seven years old. This is justice, however cold it seems to you."  
  
Rey was shaking her head, eyes wide with desperation. She remembered the fear, the horrible deep terror Kylo felt in Snoke's presence. She recalled how quickly and fiercely he rebuffed any show of disloyalty or free thought, how scared he'd been that she might anger his master. Rey knew Kylo, knew him better than anyone with her two-way connection to his thoughts. He was a deeply flawed person, and he'd done horrible things. But he was under terrible, terrible duress. Surely that should count for something?  
  
"But Snoke controls him, Luke! He doesn't have a choice--"  
  
Luke’s eyes flashed, an anger that Rey had never seen in him before. "Of course he has a choice, Rey! I would die before I'd murder children! That he puts his own life before all others is not a reason to pardon him!"  
  
"Snoke would just find someone else to carry out the order! He wouldn't save anyone by sacrificing himself, and this execution won't save anyone either. Snoke will replace him in a day, and I've met the people next in line!"  
  
Luke's normally placid face was contorted with frustration and disbelief.  
  
"Think about who you're defending, Rey." He reached for her, and Rey stepped back to avoid his hand, hostility pouring into her muscles. Luke pointed at her neck, and his tone was insufferably patronizing. "That bruise looks painful. Who gave it to you?"  
  
Tears stung in her eyes, and she swallowed a sob. Then she lied, lied because Luke couldn't do this, couldn't hand Kylo over to a military tribunal to be killed in the name of some twisted idea of justice. "Snoke did. Who left me on Ahch-To to die, Master Luke?"  
  
He inhaled sharply and had the gall to look hurt. "Is that what you think, Rey?"  
  
"You knew I wasn't ready but you let me think I was! You knew what would happen!"  
  
Sorrow filled his eyes, and he shook his head slowly. "No, I didn't have any idea... I had a vision of the two of you, and he wasn't Kylo Ren, he was my _nephew._ It was Ben. If you met him again, Ben would come back to us." Rey hated that his eyes were wet. He had no right to be sorrowful: he'd used her, hadn't even respected her enough to even explain the plan or give her a choice. "But we never heard from either of you, not for months and months. We were so sure he had killed you. I... there are no _words_. I'm so sorry, Rey."  


Rey swallowed her fury, tried to maintain composure in the face of this awful wrong. She could be angry later, once Luke and Kylo were safe from each other. "I don't think Kylo could kill me, even if he wanted to. I've seen his mind, he--” Rey’s voice cracked under the pressure of the words, words neither of them had spoken aloud. “I think he loves me. But he's so afraid. He needs our help."

Luke's eyes snapped up at this revelation, and he looked deeply troubled.

“Please,” Rey pleaded, eyes hazing with tears.

Luke just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rey. It's out of my hands now."  
  
The dam holding her fury at bay finally broke. She'd been lonely for so long, years and years with no one... She wasn’t going to lose him. Not like this. Not when it could be so easily prevented. She shouted at her former Master, four months of pent up fury released at once. "That isn't good enough! You're his _family_! You're supposed to care about him!"  
  
Suddenly Rey felt him – _Kylo_ – a ball of burning rage slamming into the atmosphere. _No!_ _No no no you have to go, don't come here_ \-- his only response was fury, blind and relentless. She had to find him, had to keep them all away from him.

Luke was stepping towards her slowly, as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Rey... I know that you're upset. But this emotional attachment is a path to the dark s--"  
  
"It's too late for that!" she shrieked, face shining with tears. Rey was desperate to get away from them now, to find Kylo and hold him back, but there was something else as well, a raw and visceral indignation. How dare he warn her about the dark side after he’d abandoned her to it?

Anyway, the darkness didn’t frighten Rey anymore.

She reached for the force, let it fill up her chaotic inner space, and then flung it out and upwards. The concussive power was so much more than she’d ever been able to channel before, a blend of righteous light and furious darkness that flew out from her in waves, scattering debris and knocking over bodies. There was a menacing sound as a portion of the ceiling cracked, and that was the chance she needed. The squad scattered to avoid the projectiles, Luke turned to see what was happening, and Rey pulled the force around her and ran.  
  
There was shouting behind her and she heard Luke's voice clearly, calling her name. She ignored them and ran as fast as she ever had, leaping over debris and tripping over the cracked flagstones. Then a blaster bolt grazed her cheek, and without even thinking Rey drew the hilt of her staff and activated the blades, turning just in time to see the Resistance fighter take aim again. She deflected the bolt into his chest, then deflected four more to take out the two shooters behind him. Rey resumed sprinting without pausing to mourn their lives- there wasn’t time. No one else followed her and she could feel Kylo, not far now. Her lungs burned, her legs were seizing, and she was so tired, so completely exhausted. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but finding Kylo and convincing him to flee the trap that was set for him.  


 

*

 

Kylo knew the second that Rey left Rakata Prime, felt her loss like a wound in his chest. He could still sense her through the bond, resolute but exhausted, but the cool presence of her Force signature and the pool of refreshing power she carried with her were suddenly gone.

Kylo was immediately consumed by the simple, single-minded drive to _get her back._

Her destination was obvious, though Kylo couldn’t begin to understand her motivation. Skywalker had left her on Ahch-To alone, when her training was still in its infancy, presumably to die. Her continued allegiance to him was baffling. And infuriating. And horrifyingly hurtful.

She had left him. After everything he had done to ensure her comfort and safety: the months of training, the lengths to which he’d gone to find her a weapon, the hours spent indulging her inquiries. He had fed her, clothed her, educated her, given her every privilege the First Order could offer when he could have easily just forgotten her in a holding cell. He had _lied_ for her, lied to _Snoke_ , literally put his life at risk… and she had left him. Left him for _Skywalker_ , of all people.

It took Ghera and Yssin combined to physically prevent him from immediate pursuit. _Stop. Think,_ they’d urged him. So he did, with great effort, and together the five of them developed a plan. It was simple: a straight-up repeat of Ahch-To except without two of their number, but that wouldn’t matter in the end.

It took the group of Knights a few minutes to gear up in layers of synthweave and cortosis. Kylo’s command shuttle was prepared, and within an hour of Rey’s departure they were on the landing bay. She’d stolen Trayt’s _Lightstealth_ -18 recon ship, and listening to Trayt’s self-absorbed diatribe on the hundreds of thousands of credits worth of modifications on that ship was too much to tolerate. Kylo’s lover had left him, left him to seek out a man that had made a career of plucking at his insecurities, and Trayt was worried about his damned _transport_?

Ghera had to pry his fingers from Trayt’s neck. She pulled him away from the indignant slicer, and even with her polished mask in place, Kylo could sense her frustration.

“Could you please tell me this isn’t what it looks like, Kylo? Are we rushing off to kill Skywalker, or to get back your little dune rat?”

“Both,” Kylo growled, flexing his fingers anxiously.

“You sure? I know she was your apprentice, but that’s--”

Through gritted teeth, he corrected her. “Is. Is my apprentice.”

Ghera huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, she’s a traitor too, now.”

“It’s hard for her to betray a group she never swore loyalty to.” Kylo immediately regretted saying it. True as the statement might be, this was the wrong place to say so, as Ghera’s immediate rage proved.

“Then you’d better tell me this thing you have with her isn’t what it’s starting to look like! Because fucking your pet Jedi is one thing, but defending her when she royally fucks up an objective for you is something else. I don’t even want to _say_ what that is.”

Because it was treason.

Kylo sighed, pulled his composure together. “Skywalker is the main objective. If Rey can be detained, then Snoke can decide what to do with her.” The idea made him physically ill, but it seemed to pacify Ghera.

The ship was prepared, and they boarded and strapped in. Snoke’s words were ringing in his ears as they left the dirt behind.

_Cut away this weakness, or I will do it for you._

Perhaps this was the Force’s way of compelling him to obey.

 

 

Kylo had never been to Dantooine, and he didn’t care to admire the scenery. Stomping down the loading ramp, he could immediately could feel her. Rey was here, and so was Skywalker. She was _anguished_. She didn’t want him here, and the rejection cut at him.

The five Knights proceeded into the ruin with Kylo leading them, reaching out for the tiny sparks in the Force that were Rey and Skywalker. They were together, and then… a disturbance. A tremendous burst of power, and through their bond he felt her rage, her desperate sorrow, and she began to move. She was coming right to them.

They pressed onward, passing through several wrecked courtyards filled with weathered debris before Rey burst out of a half-collapsed corridor. The mixture of grief and relief and fury when Kylo saw her was confusing, and it made him hesitate. He thought they’d face off again, like on Ahch-To, but instead she ran straight into him. Her cheek was bleeding, and she looked so relieved to see him that Kylo’s steps faltered.

“ _Kylo_ …” she panted, and before she could get out another word Kylo reached for her. He thought he wanted to grab her wrists, capture her again and send her back to the ship, but she misinterpreted the signal and embraced him. He froze in her arms, tense and conflicted, but a gruff noise of disgust from Baltus steeled him. Kylo grabbed her forearms in a vice-like grip and pulled them from his waist.

“Trayt, take her back to the ship.”

The horror flashing over her face seemed made to pull his heart from his chest. Beneath the mask, Kylo had to close his eyes to shut it out.

“ _NO!_ Kylo wait, Luke--”

A wave of his hand, a little push with the force, and she slumped in his arms. She’d left her mind undefended because she trusted him. Something wrenched in his gut, but it was useless, unhelpful.

He didn’t cradle her in his arms this time. Trayt came to sling her over his shoulder, and his hands on her limp limbs made Kylo want to tear the ruin down around them panel by panel. But Skywalker was still here. He had to be the main objective. Kylo would go and kill him like a good little minion, and then maybe Snoke would grant Rey some mercy.

They stalked through the ruin, retracing Rey’s panicked steps. When they found three dead Resistance fighters, still warm, Kylo began to question their plan. Rey had been trying to tell him something. She’d been running, bleeding, obviously distraught. Something was wrong.

“Brace for an ambush.” Yssin rumbled, and Kylo nodded in agreement. Skywalker wasn’t alone, that much was clear. According to their intelligence reports the Resistance hadn’t been in contact with him until now, but then they hadn’t known his location either. Obviously, he was working with them now.

A large chamber loomed ahead, multitiered and open. Skywalker was standing at the center.

Yssin hung back in the doorway to cover them as Kylo, Baltus and Ghera approached, weapons drawn. The old man had a saber hilt in his hand, but he hadn’t activated it yet. Kylo thought perhaps Skywalker intended to speak to him, but then the room exploded with blaster fire and the old Jedi turned into a blur of green plasma.

Kylo engaged Skywalker, raining blows down against his calm defense. It took effort to split his concentration between his uncle and the bolts flying around him, blocking and deflecting and catching the projectiles with the Force to let them hang in midair. Luckily Luke was puling punches, only defending and aiming to disarm. _Typical, weak Jedi._ No resolve. No intent. Kylo threw up a shield to protect his back as he pressed his crackling saber against the old man’s hasty block, pushing Luke back with superior strength. Skywalker gave, retreated a few steps, then spun away and crouched to defend. Pushing himself into the numb state of total connection with the force, Kylo pursued.

Ghera and Baltus were blurs behind him, taking out as many of the Resistance fighters as they could while Yssin picked off the shooters on the upper levels.  Kylo was a blur of fury, arcs of red slamming into Skywalker’s defensive postures with pure brutality. Each time the Jedi took a step back, inching back towards a corridor, and Kylo thought maybe he intended to flee.

The arrogance of that thought would only occur to him much, much later.

Baltus fell with a gasp, peppered with blaster fire. Ghera was bleeding from a shoulder wound. There were still a dozen Resistance fighters, half of them crouched behind cover on the upper levels where only Yssin’s perfectly aimed bolts could reach them. Then a dozen more burst from the corridor behind Skywalker and corralled Kylo, leaped on him, disarmed him before he could cut down more than two or three. Kylo could hear Ghera shouting, but she and Yssin were too far away, with too many enemies between them. Kylo had let Skywalker draw him into a corner, and now he was without help.

There was a pinch at his neck, momentarily painful, and then Kylo felt only his hatred, heard only Luke’s voice as he mumbled something incomprehensible, saw only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jedi Enclave on Dantooine? You want to know if the Bastila and Revan reference is on purpose and YES. It is. Always.
> 
> If you're into tech lore, google the Lightstealth-18 Reconnaissance ship. It's a thing of beauty.
> 
> Could Kylo have been tricked like this? Wouldn't he have seen all these guerrilla fighters with the Force? Maybe, yeah, but it's a piece of fanfiction so I'm taking some artistic license. Suspend your disbelief for me, if you please.


	11. Chapter 11

A dozen dull aches, in his shoulders, his arms, his back… pain was the first sensation Kylo noticed, after sleeping for an eternity. He was lying on a hard surface. The room was over-bright, and harsh light bored through his closed eyelids and made his head pound. Kylo flexed his hands experimentally, his senses still dull with sedatives, his body slow to respond.

Gingerly, he opened his eyes. It was a square room just a few paces across, white and beige and brightly lit from recessed ceiling fixtures. He laid on a solid cot-like platform. A narrow door took up one wall, and a thick one-way mirror took up another. In a corner of the ceiling was the telltale shine of a lens. 

Kylo reached out with the Force, searching for the watchers. Skywalker’s fierce spark on the other side of the mirrored wall, General Organa’s tenacious little glow in a distant room. Predictable.

He was bared to the waist, and Kylo felt the bandages plastered across his shoulders and back, treatment for a smattering of narrow blaster wounds he didn’t remember sustaining. 

_ Smile for the camera. The audience needs a healthy monster to despise. _

Kylo knew how their troublesome little consciences worked. A war criminal was all they wanted to see, because a war criminal was easy to kill. A man- an injured man- was much harder. 

At the foot of the cot were a drab shirt and a soft-soled pair of shoes without laces _. _ Their fear satisfied him, to a small degree. Kylo stood and stretched sore muscles, ran fingers through his limp hair. He donned the shirt and shoes and sat cross legged on the floor facing the mirror as if to meditate.

_ Hello, uncle. _

But Kylo didn’t meditate. Instead he reached out for Rey, feeling along the connection until he found her familiar pool of strength. The thread that bonded their thoughts was stretched thin, but she was hale and whole and awake. The strained connection flared open in his mind as she sensed him, relief and fear pouring through in equal measures.

_ They won’t tell me anything Kylo, where are you? _

_ A cell. Skywalker is watching me. _

Her panic and frustration slammed into his mind with near-physical impact, and Kylo took a deep breath and gripped his knees. He had to keep calm, had to plan. But Rey was thinking at light speed, and Kylo could barely keep up with her grievances.

_ I tried to tell you Kylo, you stupid, stupid man but you wouldn’t listen to me, you’re a  _ **_proud idiot!_ ** _ I could have told you how many fighters there were, we could have figured something out together-- _

_ Listen to you? You  _ **_left_ ** _ me, Rey.  _ He was still furious with her. She’d hurt him in a manner that no one had been able to for years. He’d chosen to forget how much rejection could ache, and for good reason.  _ You betrayed me, for fucking Skywalker! After everything I’ve done to protect you-- _

_ I don’t need protecting, Kylo. I can handle myself-- _

**_You do_ ** _. You have no idea what Snoke had planned for you. _

There was a long pause, a terribly heavy silence that made Kylo’s heart pound, his blood burn.

_ What does Snoke have planned, Kylo? _

The strained quality of their bond became suddenly concerning. Kylo couldn’t sense Rey in the base, didn’t feel her signature anywhere nearby.

_ Where are you?  _ She didn’t answer, and Kylo gritted his teeth to keep from shouting aloud.  _ Tell me where you are! Where the fuck are you, Rey? _

Her answer was a fearful whisper in his mind.  _ I’m on Rakata Prime. _

_ No. _ **_No!_ **

What kind of poorly thought out trap didn’t bother to ground an enemy ship? Kylo was incredulous, seething, furious with the old man, with the Resistance, with whatever second-rate minds had planned such a shoddy operation. Rey’s safety with the Resistance would have been the only upside to his current circumstance, but instead Trayt had been allowed to escape with her. Now she was in the most dangerous place she could be, at present. To Kylo, the incompetence was staggering. The fact that such a haphazard operation could even have managed to detain him was a nothing short of miraculous, and Kylo would have been ashamed at that if he hadn’t been so damn angry.

And terrified. And horribly, horribly guilty.

He’d been the only thing standing between Rey and Snoke’s cruel vision. Kylo had no illusions about how his Master would achieve it, now that Kylo wasn’t there. Snoke was afraid of Rey, afraid of the unusual power she possessed. But he coveted it, too. He would make a tool of her, as he had done to Kylo.

_ Tell me what Snoke is planning, Kylo. _

Thinking about it was dreadful, but Rey was insistent. She slipped into his mind, peering where she’d never tried to look before. Reluctantly, Kylo opened his mind to her and pulled the relevant information to the forefront. 

Some memories were new - Snoke’s vision of Rey kneeling, subsumed by his will. Others were old, memories he’d buried years ago and refused to think of since - a very particular psychic pain, a bone-deep sorrow that filled his chest with cement. Snoke would play with her memories, manipulate them until she submitted just to end the anguish and grief. Those were Snoke’s tools, and soon Rey would know them as intimately as Kylo did.

Her raging, terrified denial poured through the bond. All of Kylo’s fury and hurt dissolved, selfish emotions unable to stand against the wave of guilt. He allowed this. He’d sent her back to his Master, all because he was too proud to show weakness, too selfish to trade his legacy for her freedom. 

_ I should have left with you when we had the chance.  _

For a while they exchanged nothing, separated by half a galaxy’s worth of silence. Then Rey began to recall things to fill the void: a deflected bolt, a force jump, a stunning vanishing act that left him aghast. Little achievements and tiny moments of victory to stave off the fear and the grief. Kylo responded in kind with the snow on her eyelashes on Starkiller, her predatory expression when she called to the dark side, the feel of her hair in his fingers.

They did this for hours, wordlessly sharing memories of their time together.

Eventually, reality pulled them from their reminiscing.  _ Someone’s here,  _ she thought. Ghera and Yssin had come, and they cuffed her before pulling her into the corridors.

_ They came together because they fear you. Be proud, Rey. _

_ They won’t talk to me. I think we’re going to Snoke. _

Feeling her narrative reaction as the events unfolded was a keen torture, but Kylo wouldn’t dare to shut her out. She deserved to know that he was with her, and he deserved the pain of watching. She passed through the ancient corridors, thick with seductive power, with surprising calm. There was a burst of terror when she entered the chamber, a rising panic at the sight of the Supreme Leader, pale and imposing. Kylo tried to soothe it, remembered that night when he’d cradled her and helped her to sleep.  _ I love you, Rey. Don’t forget. _

But then the black sticky creep of his Master’s presence engulfed her mind. Kylo could feel everything: Rey’s terror, the pounding of her head, the rush of blood in her ears. Snoke began to pry, pulling up memories selected carefully for his purpose. Moments of grief, of loneliness, hopelessness. Tiny sorrows conflated into crippling wounds, old scars ripped open and poked at until they bled anew.

Kylo had seen Ray’s mind. He knew the wealth of raw material his Master had to work with. He pulled himself up into a crouch, balancing his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. For the first time in a decade, Kylo cried.

It went on for hours that stretched into a day. Snoke played on her every insecurity, pulling up her most carefully guarded memories, things she’d tried desperately to forget. He whispered terrible truths in her mind:  _ They abandoned you. You’ve been forgotten. No one is coming. You’re all alone.  _ At first Kylo tried offering her consolation via their connection with memories of soft touches, echoes of warmth and companionship. But Snoke found these gestures and Rey suffered for them. Snoke bent and twisted them, juxtaposing soft tactile memories with images of Unkar Plutt, or muddying the memory of Han Solo's death with subtle recollections of arousal. It made Rey nauseated and confused, and Kylo didn’t attempt it again. 

Then the laughter started in his head, cold and hoarse and sinister, and Kylo’s resolution to remain stoic dissolved. There was nothing in the room to throw, no weapon with which to tear apart the walls. So Kylo beat them with his feet and fists, his knees, his head.

Snoke was laughing at him while he tortured her, and for the first time in his life Kylo contemplated killing the creature. He imagined the visceral shred of dragging his saber through that cretin’s leathered flesh, the warm gush of his blood, and the brutal satisfaction he’d feel as Snoke sputtered and coughed and finally died.

But he was stuck in this box, useless as he waited for a probable death sentence. He couldn’t kill Snoke, couldn’t even offer Rey a shred of comfort. Furious and despairing, Kylo kicked the thick plastic of the mirror for an hour, until the door hissed open and a dozen security staff rushed in to hold him down. 

Another pinch, another sleep.

  
  


When he woke up bruised and sore Kylo immediately, reflexively reached for Rey. 

She was completely unshielded, and Kylo experienced everything she did: the humid air against her skin, the cold stone on which she laid.  She was in pain – she’d picked her hands raw from the cuticles to the first knuckle, and Kylo could feel, through her, the red pinpricks on her forearms where she'd begun to worry at slight imperfections in her skin. He hadn't understood this behavior before, but now Kylo knew the reason for it. It had been years since Snoke had been able to use this particular torture, but Kylo knew the rhythm of this dirge like he knew the first forms he'd learned as a child. 

All of the things he ever wanted to forget, dragged to the surface. Failings, rejections, embarrassments, moments of pain, shame, and sorrow, old resentments dusted off and made new. Snoke replayed each of them over and over until pain was all there was, until it consumed every instant of happiness or contentment and burned them all to ash.  Repeated visions, over and over, of the hurts that most defined him: His father leaving him behind again and again and again, always with the empty promise that he could tag along next time. His mother, busily restructuring the senate, only bothering to take time for him when he needed scolding for expressing anger, jealousy or aggression, normal emotions in the course of childhood that meant so much more to a Skywalker.

And his uncle.

More myth than man, a shining hero that excelled at every skill he’d ever tried. Ben had gone to the academy thinking that he’d finally have a family, but Master Luke had been anything but - distant, dismissive, and perpetually disappointed. Jedi Masters made poor father figures, and it was then that Ben knew he really was alone.

They should have been small complaints, frustrations many teenagers might have felt, but in Snoke’s hands they became crippling rejections. Snoke replayed them in his mind, forced ruminations that lasted weeks before he finally broke. Ben started dreaming of death.  Physical pain became a welcome companion, heady doses of adrenaline and endorphins to approximate actual excitement. It was a maladaptive way to stave off the emptiness but it had worked, for a time.  He’d have done anything to end it, to feel something like acceptance. 

Instead, Snoke had given him power. Angry, out of his mind with rage, Ben had slaughtered the apprentices at the temple on Yavin 4, and after that there had been no going back. He had only one purpose, after that: to  serve.   
  
If he carried out Snoke’s will he was rewarded with acceptance, praise, a sense of distinguishment. But if he failed spectacularly enough or was foolish enough to refuse, he was at the mercy of his memories again.   
  
Kylo had eventually locked them away: all of Ben's life, his most tortured periods, his greatest guilts and betrayals. He buried them, drowned them, suffocated them until they didn't feel like a part of his own life anymore. The dissociation meant Snoke couldn't use those images to hurt him. He'd been reborn stronger, immune to Snoke's favored torture. But the damage was already done. 

No, he was no longer baffled that Rey sought relief in the physical.

He should never have sent her back. He should have run with her when she’d offered. He should have left her on Ahch-To in peace.

He should never have gone to Snoke.

It was a terrifying realization that left him empty and numb. All of his work, all of the pain, the death, the sacrifice, was stripped of meaning and purpose in the hulking shadow of this idea.

_ This has been a mistake. _

_ You are being used. _

He'd always known it on some level, but watching Snoke torture Rey, imagining her eventually succumbing to his will, suddenly made the manipulations so shockingly obvious. He’d idolized his grandfather since childhood, and Snoke lured Ben in with the promise that he could be as powerful, as significant, as respected, as strong of a leader. What would Snoke offer Rey to justify the loss of her free will? An end to her loneliness? An end to hunger? The power to raise up all who shared her misfortune, the slaves and orphans of the galaxy? The thought held a gruesome irony.

Kylo had only been awake a few hours, cradling his head in his hands and steeling himself against the hollow despair drifting listlessly through the bond, when they came for him. Ranks of blasters trained on his chest, heavy cuffs, the threat of more sedatives… all to escort an unarmed man down a hallway. Not that Kylo was ever unarmed, not really. But the odds were absurdly stacked against him, and Kylo saw no point in trading a few lives for another day of sedated sleep. He’d had enough of staving off the inevitable.

The walk was short, the room austere. Seven harsh-looking men and women of various species behind a high desk, and a pitifully mundane little chair for him to sit in as they judged him. The list of crimes was long:  _ Hundreds of counts of murder, torture, conspiracy, treason, sedition…  _

Rey was crying. She was reliving the moment from the interrogation when he’d pulled the map from her mind.  _ You failed to protect it. You betrayed your only friends, and now they care so little for you that they’ve left you here to suffer. No one volunteered to rescue the traitor.  _ And all the while the horrible laughter as Snoke reveled in Kylo’s failure, his weakness.

Kylo leaned forward and buried his bound hands in his hair, pulling his head between his knees. He gritted his teeth, screwed his eyes shut, but his shoulders were shaking and he knew from the collective hush that they could see. The panel of idiots thought he was repentant, but he was a weapon. A sword didn’t regret the limbs it severed. Their opinions meant nothing to him. Rey was the only thing left in the galaxy he cared about.

Kylo almost missed the part where they sentenced him.  _ Execution by lethal injection to be carried out the day after tomorrow.  _

It was completely expected, but still the words held  impact. He would die in two days. There was no escape, no opportunity to appeal. But far worse was the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be able to save Rey. He would die, and she would replace him as Snoke’s puppet. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. Nothing at all.

Kylo stiffened and locked his jaw, battling the despair that was drowning him upon hearing the words. He wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t grant them the satisfaction.

“Does the convicted have any final requests?”

That caught his attention. Kylo grasped at the one last chance he might have to save Rey from the fate he’d so foolishly forged for her. He’d have to dispense with his pride, show humility for once, but Kylo decided that he owed it to Rey. He couldn’t die without having done all he could for her.

“Yes,” he called out hurriedly. His voice was hoarse, and Kylo cleared his throat and swiped his damp face across his sleeve as he looked up at the seven faces staring down at him. They weren’t as stern as before. A few looked disturbed. One was sad. 

“I’d like to speak with my uncle.”

There was a pause before anyone responded. “We will see when Master Skywalker is available.”

“Sooner would be better, obviously.” Kylo slouched back in his chair, indolent once more.

They marched him back to his cell. A stiff-looking lieutenant tried to take a food request, but Kylo just waved him off impatiently. He had no interest in a last meal. He refused to follow their script.

More waiting. Hours with nothing to do but try to sleep, try to ignore the cruel laughter in his mind, try to manage the continuously shifting line between Rey’s emotions and his own. He was shaking, barely able to concentrate on his own thoughts, trying desperately to breathe, to calm himself, to passively calm Rey, when the door hissed.

It wasn’t his uncle. It was the General.

Kylo sucked a breath in through his nose and crossed his legs beneath him, trying to hobble together some composure. She’d aged more than she ought: she was shorter, her hair fully grey. Four members of the enormous security detail outside the door accompanied her inside, itchy fingers hovering over the triggers of their blaster rifles. Kylo bit his tongue and waited for her to speak, at a loss for what he would say to her. She stood stiffly by the door for half a minute, continuously seeming about to say something that she couldn’t quite get out. Finally, she spat the words out in the same business-like tone that Kylo remembered from his childhood.

“I want you to know that I testified in your defense, Ben.”

The name stung like a slap and Kylo silently seethed, opening and closing his fists. There was another half minute of painful silence before she spoke again.

“I just wish I understood why. I know that Snoke influenced you, but Han… he was your  _ father. _ What reason could you possibly have--”

“You want to know why I killed Han Solo?” Kylo glared at her, his words ice-tipped and cruel. “I killed him so you’d  _ hate _ me.”

The color drained from the General’s face. Her mouth was tight-lipped and she stared at him with a singular fury that could only have come from a mother.

“I’m going to die in two days. I don’t think I owe  _ you _ any catharsis, General Organa.” He spat the title like the insult it was - she’d never been a mother to him. Rey was slowly losing her mind, and Kylo did not have the emotional resources to spare for rehashing the past or placing blame.

Her jaw was shaking with fury. “You sure as shit owe me, Ben! After what you’ve put me through, what you’ve done--”

Kylo leaped to his feet, shaking with barely contained rage. Instantly there were four rifles pointed at his chest.

“What I’ve--” he stopped with a harsh, incredulous laugh. Where had she been when Snoke started his manipulations, started setting up his snare? Kylo wanted to kill her, wanted to feel her heartbeat flutter out under his fingers. Instead, he just roared. “ _ Get out! _ ”

Though she tried to hide it, it was clear that his anger affected her. As the nervous security detail ushered her out the door, her eyes never left his.

It was a devious little detail that there was nothing in the room he could throw. Instead, Kylo took his fury out the platform cot. He stomped and kicked it until it dented, then collapsed with his back against it and rested his head in his hands, pulling at his own hair. The pain, mild as it was, braced him.

Rey had stopped crying now. She was lying on the stone, listless and numb, as the memory of a shuttle leaving Jakku played in her mind over and over and over.

It was hours before the door opened again. Luke Skywalker leveled him with a wary gaze and politely declined the guard. His uncle sat across from him, tapping an impatient finger on his knee.

"You asked for me." His voice was raspier than Kylo remembered, but the coolness was familiar. Always so distant, so detached.   
  
Kylo took a breath that did little to center him. His jaw was tight, and he found he couldn’t meet Luke’s gaze. He’d always been intimidated by his uncle. He was a legend, after all. A hero who’d never wanted anything to do with him, and seemed to care  even less now. Kylo stated his purpose, and his voice was dry. "Someone needs to know what is happening to Rey. You're the only other person who knew her well."   
  
"Snoke plans to kill her?"  Skywalker supposed, stone faced.    
  
Kylo shook his head. "No, that might have been a preferable option. He's... she'll be like me, when he's done. Worse, I think. I went to Snoke on my own, but Rey hates him. It'll take…  _ a lot _ ,” his voice broke. Kylo cleared his throat and pushed away his dread. “to condition that out of her, but he's capable. She won't be herself anymore. And since you're all so keen on executing anyone who follows Snoke's orders, I'm asking you to stop him. As a last request."

Luke’s eyebrows rose at this. Good. Kylo wanted him to know how serious he was.

"Get her out. Kill Snoke, if you can, or he'll whisper in her mind and call her back. He makes it impossible to run or to leave. She'll never be free while he's alive, once he gets his fingers in her mind. And he's in there, he's picking her apart..." Kylo pulled his knees up and rested his head in his hands. It wasn’t the composed picture he would have like to present, but Rey was despairing and it poured into his mind like an infection. He couldn’t shield himself from her.   
  
"You can feel it." His uncle was staring at him with narrowed eyes, sensing his vulnerability.   
  
Kylo nodded grimly, his voice hoarse. "I feel everything she feels."   
  
"And she can feel you?"   
  
Kylo nodded again. "But I can't send any thoughts to her now. Snoke intercepts them and twists them... he's  _ laughing _ at me.” Kylo dug his hands into his hair and stared at the floor, tried to concentrate on breathing, on calm. “I think he's drawing it out just to make me squirm. Once I’m--” Kylo swallowed, his tongue thick in his mouth. “He won’t waste time forever. You have to get her out."

“And what is it that he’s doing, exactly?”

Kylo looked up and leveled his uncle with a hard gaze. “Ever hear of Death by Chagrin?”

Luke’s jaw moved as he swallowed, disturbed by the phrase. Kylo thought he could detect perhaps the tiniest softening of his tone. "Is this what Snoke did to you?"

Kylo pursed his lips defiantly.  “I don’t want to talk about me.”

“Well, I do. You need my help, so you’ll answer my questions.” Luke was insufferably casual, leaning back against the wall of the cell with an open expression. He did, however, give Kylo the dignity of refusing him pity. His voice wasn’t soft or sympathetic, just matter-of-fact. “Did Snoke torture you like he’s torturing Rey?”

“Yes,” Kylo grumbled through gritted teeth. “But I’m responsible for--”

“I know you are,” Luke said simply. The paused for a moment, thoughtful, then continued in a softer tone. “Tell me about your fixation with Darth Vader.”

“This has nothing to do with what I’m asking,” Kylo scoffed.

Luke ignored his protest and asked again. “You weren’t an aggressive child. What is it about your grandfather that appealed to you?”

Kylo could barely remember. He had been fascinated, an obsession that intensified after meeting Snoke. He’d modeled his life after the man, but it had been a long time since he’d thought about what had initially drawn him to the stories. Luke used to tell Ben about his grandfather when he was very young,  before he was old enough to comprehend his uncle’s fame. Then he didn’t see Uncle Luke for several years. When he was ten the General had sent Ben to Yavin 4, and Luke had been different. He was distant, a teacher instead of an uncle.

Kylo tried to remember the stories he’d loved most.  _ Pleading with Master Yoda for the power to save Padme’s life. Looking into Luke’s eyes as the Emperor shot him full of lightning and making the decision to save him. _

“He loved his family.” Kylo responded finally, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “He would have done anything for them.”

When Luke finally responded, Kylo had the feeling he was choosing his words very carefully. “Ben’s family would have done anything for him.”

It had been years since Kylo had buried these thoughts, and they couldn’t hurt him anymore. His voice was dispassionate and flat. “Ben had no family. Not even you.”

“Jedi can’t have families,” Luke replied with a sigh. “I almost fell to the dark side once, to protect Leia when our father threatened her. I think I left that part out of the bedtime story.”

Kylo rose his eyebrows at this. In all the stories he had ever heard of his uncle Luke, he’d been a perfect hero. Ethical, powerful, right about everything, talented in every way. Ben had envied him as a young teen, jealous of how easily Luke seemed to find the right path when he himself felt so lost. 

“I had to distance myself,” Luke continued. “I had a responsibility to my students, to the galaxy.”

But who had a responsibility for Ben? Kylo grimaced. “I don’t think Ben would have found that excuse particularly consoling.”

Kylo waited, but Luke made no reply. Leaning forward, Kylo made deliberate  eye-contact and entreated him again. “Tell me you’ll save her.”

It was a long time before his uncle answered.

“I will do what I can.”

  
  


Luke left, and the hours ran together. Finally Rey’s end of the connection went blissfully silent. Snoke must have dozed off, but Rey wasn’t sleeping. Kylo tried to reach out, offered to wrap her in warmth, in belonging, just one more time. It near broke his heart when she withdrew. Even the dimmest memory he could scrounge was too visceral and bright in her overworked and over sensitive mind.

But Kylo had allowed this. He had no right to be hurt.

He slept while he could. If nothing else, it passed the time.

When the door hissed open, Kylo’s blood began to rush in his ears. It was too soon. It hadn’t been two days, surely. But instead of ranks of security personnel, it was only Luke who entered. He was gruff and stiff, obviously anxious.

“Get up. We’re leaving,” He commanded.

Kylo only stared at him, incredulous, too confused to react sensibly.

Luke exhaled impatiently. “My father, your grandfather, died to protect me. If you’re going to die, it can at least serve a purpose. Now get up and come with me before your mother figures out what I’m up to.”

Kylo staggered to his feet warily. “Are you serious?”

Luke didn’t bother to answer, just glared at him and jerked his head towards the hall. 

Kylo rushed to the door, and gaped when he found it unguarded. “What happened to all the security?”

Luke stormed down the brightly lit hall, and Kylo had no inclination but to follow. “They suddenly remembered they had scheduled calls with family members,” the old man muttered.

A wry smile spread across Kylo’s face. “All of them at the same time? Odd how that could happen.”

Luke snorted in reply. “Yes, the escape of Kylo Ren will be a baffling mystery for a whole twenty minutes. So hurry up. That recon ship Rey left on Dantooine is in the hangar.”

And then, with a look that would have stopped a rancor in its tracks, Luke glanced back at him in warning. 

“Do not make me regret this, Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All praise and honor be to [Thermal-Detonhater](http://thermal-detonhater.tumblr.com/) for her fabulous and generous beta-ing!
> 
> As always, your comments are an absolute DELIGHT. I love talking to you guys about these characters. If you're interested in connecting in another way, I now have a [Tumblr.](http://hyperscanvindicator.tumblr.com)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the long, long absence. 'Tis thesis season.

On the first day, Rey fought. She rebelled hand and foot and knee and mouth and mind, struggling against the weight of Snoke’s power. Despite her efforts, he crushed against the smooth obsidian floor and ravaged her mind, picking through the mountains of dull, tedious memories to find his gems and cut her with them. 

_ Left on Ahch-To to face your enemy alone, intentionally misled to believe you were strong enough. He left you to die, just like your parents. No one cares what happens to you. _

The hurt that Rey had spent a lifetime dulling became  sharper than ever. Rey raged against it, but Snoke took no notice of her protests and continued to dig through her memories with languid arrogance, carefully selecting his tools. That Rey was aware of his manipulations did nothing to soothe the pain of having these old wounds poked at and ripped open.

_ Standing in line with dozens of other scavengers to turn in junk you’ve worked so hard to find, but it’s never enough. All around you, old women and emaciated children are waiting to wither away in the desert. You are one of them, trying to trade scrap for food, barely surviving. But you are no one. You are as worthless as the garbage you collect.  _

These were all thoughts she’d had had on her own. Every day that she’d gone hungry, Rey had thought that if she were stronger, smarter, braver, she would have earned the right to eat. This was survival of the fittest, and there were a few scavengers who looked well fed: weathered folk who knew more about mechanics and engineering that Rey would ever learn. So the next day she would walk farther and climbed higher, risking death for a few more calories. And when that yielded no more than yesterday, she’d wonder if she just wasn’t meant to live. 

_ It wasn’t me. It was Plutt’s stupid economy,  _ Rey thought.  _ Someday I’ll find that swollen Crolute and pop him like a blister _ . Snoke grasped at that vicious impulse and illustrated it with a vision of pale, corpulent flesh and the contents thereof, pink and yellow and crimson, oozing out and steaming on the hot sand. Rey gagged at the gore, and Snoke sneered down at her.

“Pathetic,” he hissed. “Weak little thing.”

In the lulls, when Snoke forgot her for a moment to pace the floor in thought, to hold a meeting with a terrified advisor, or to tap furiously at a datapad, Rey still rebelled. She remembered things as she chose – her name, her skills, her favorite flower. The day she met Han Solo. The day she met Luke Skywalker. The day she met Leia Organa. The day she met Kylo Ren. 

How could someone with such legends for friends be worthless? 

Rey could run for miles without resting. She could climb hundreds of feet into the air without panicking. She could take apart an X-wing engine and put it back together in mere hours. She could read minds. She could influence people’s actions. She could make herself invisible. She could kill people. Easily. 

She was not worthless.

Snoke caught the rebellious thought and laughed, an insidious cackling that echoed in the temple and in her mind. But he must have taken it somewhat seriously, because a pair of black-clad officers arrived to drag her to the base of Snoke’s seat, limp as a ragdoll under the crush of the Supreme Leader’s power. They put a manacle around her ankle and welded it to the throne, so that Snoke was free to take his eyes off of her without worrying that his pet would wrap herself in the invisible cloak of the Force and be lost. Then the pair had the audacity to offer her food and drink, and Rey hurled it at them and spat in their faces. 

Snoke’s laughter intensified.

That was the first day. 

 

The second day, she was bone-tired, hungry, and dry. The hours of tedium began to wear on her and Rey began picking at her skin again, savoring the splendid pricks of pain against the backdrop of barren numbness. What did it matter now? Kylo wasn’t here to disapprove.

_ Kylo. _

He tried to comfort her at one point. Images flashed in the back of her mind, memories of herself that only made sense from his point of view. Her skin smooth under rough fingertips, her lips soft against teeth and tongue, the curves and angles of her flesh and bone borne in strong hands that grasped and stroked.

For a moment Rey reveled in this peace, in awe of  this tranquil memory. Had she really lived this love? Had she really felt this softness, this closeness, this want fulfilled? In a mind so wracked with sorrow and anger and hate it was a candle flame, a warm and inviting secret, and Rey curled her consciousness around it and  _ breathed _ it, nurtured it, tried to memorize it-- 

Until Snoke descended to snuff it out in the cruelest manner imaginable. The wizened thing crouched over her and ground her skull into the stone with one massive hand, scowling as he picked the memory apart and reworked it, twisted it into something sickening and confusing and distasteful. She was aroused as she watched Han die. The caress belonged to Unkar Plutt. The fulfillment and peace was the result of three dead Resistance fighters, bleeding out onto ruined flagstones.

Rey retched, Snoke laughed, and Kylo exploded. His rage filled her until she had to close him out, had to shield herself before his outburst overwhelmed her. Already, she was exhausted with emotion. There was no energy left to process any feelings but her own. Snoke spoke mantras in her head, repeating them over and over until her traitorous mind repeated them back.

_ Climbing through garbage, cutting your limbs on twisted metal, dragging your pile of treasures for miles to have them deemed next to worthless. Going home to eat tasteless scraps and stare at the ceiling until morning. No one speaks to you for days on end. No sleep, no food. Your life has been nothing but loneliness and struggle. _

_ My life has been nothing but loneliness and struggle. _

Rey curled in on herself and cried, pressing her bloodied knuckles to her face.

That was the second day.

 

Even when the crushing weight of Snoke’s power receded there was no sleep, no rest, no peace. Staring blankly into the gloom of the temple, Rey’s sanity began to slip. Memories were blown out of proportion, sensations were mismatched with images, emotions were heightened until Rey could no longer recall which experiences had been important and which had been trivial. Her skull was an eggshell, hollow and fragile and ready to crack at the slightest pressure.

Sorrow, disappointment, and loneliness dragged her down into a pit of apathy where any chance of escape or reprieve seemed hopelessly slim. Joys and triumphs were shredded into fuel for self-hate, ridiculed and minimized until it hurt to think of them. And righteous anger… against Luke for using her to right his own wrongs, against the Resistance for threatening Kylo, against the family that abandoned her and the junkyard warlord that enslaved her and New Republic that allowed all of it in their own backyard, that looked the other way for the sake of convenience and profit. All of this, Snoke dwelt on and amplified. 

Sometimes she felt herself floating, weightless and gossamer thin, inches above her body, looking down at limbs that she’d forgotten she owned.  _ Skinny and dirty _ , she thought.  _ A pathetic body. _

Snoke barely had to guide her anymore. Her own mind supplied the insults now, through neurons ruthlessly recoded for self-flagellation. 

_ Insignificant. Worthless. Weak. _

In her more lucid moments, physical discomforts were a welcome distraction. Thirst, and the ever present ache of hunger. The stinging pain of her fingers, picked raw. The chafing of the manacle on her ankle. Itchy crusts of dried blood in her ears. The aching pressure of the hard stone. Rey focused on them, savored the corporeal sensations. She was past despair, past sorrow; Rey detached and made herself indifferent to the pain. Apathy was her only protection from the knife-sharp memories that Snoke twisted with a  disturbing glee.

_ You are alone, forgotten. _

She was  nothing but a tool dropped in the sand, buried and left to rust. 

_ A ship flying upwards like an insect soaring into the sun. It left me, left me in that scrap heap to starve. They said they’d come back, but they never did. They forgot me. I’m not worth remembering. _

_ Master Luke’s eyes sliding over me as if I were barely here as he declared that the enemy was coming and it was time for him to leave. I thought that if I volunteered to stay to fight Kylo Ren, he would respect my bravery. It turns out I was nothing more than bait for his dead nephew. I couldn’t resist in interrogation, so he lied to me. I’m too weak to trust. _

_ Kylo Ren will be executed just to satisfy a bunch of politicians who need to distract people from how badly they’re losing the war. Then I’ll have no one. _

Of all the losses Rey had endured, this would be the one that gutted her.

But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it matter to her. Snoke turned her tears to shrapnel and embedded the shards where he knew they would cause the most pain. So Rey didn’t think of it, didn’t allow herself to feel that grief. Kylo would die. There was nothing she could do, so it didn’t matter now. She’d be alone again, but she was used to that. She could dismiss it. She had to.

That was the third day. 

 

After that, they all ran together into an abstract mess of sorrow and nothingness. In moments of self-awareness, Rey felt the dry cracks in her lips, the rasp of her own swollen tongue. She was desperately thirsty, but too despondent to care. She dispassionately wondered if this was part of the task- to beg for water, to ask Snoke for something so he could strike a bargain. 

But there was only one thing she wanted now.

The casual manner in which Rey wished for death should have disturbed her, but the emotional part of her mind had completely shut down. The cold, logical areas  that were still functioning did their cost-benefit analysis and found death to be a beneficial choice. Her suffering would cease. She was of little consequence to anyone, so no one would miss her. Perhaps there was an afterlife. Perhaps Kylo would be there.

_ Enough. Please, let me die. _

The invisible weight of Snoke’s power lifted from her instantly, and a shuffle sounded above. Rey rolled to her side and pulled her knees to her chest as t he creature left his chair and stooped over her, black robes pooling on the polished steps. His scarred face was soft with concern, with sympathy, and a passing bout of nausea warned Rey that this was not to be trusted.

There was the soft percussive sound of fingers on a data pad, and within moments a droid arrived with a tray and a cool, damp towel. Rey could barely rouse herself to take the proffered cup, filled to the brim with clear, cold water. The deathwish died in the face of her survival instinct, and Rey drank deeply.

“My poor child,” Snoke crooned, crouching beside where she huddled on the flagstones. “My apprentice will be so disappointed if you die. Is that really what you want, Little One?”

Her mouth was still too dry to form a reply, but it didn’t matter. Snoke had thoroughly embedded himself in her mind. He’d have known her response before she could voice it.  _ Kylo will die also. We’d be together. _

“Ah,” Snoke breathed. “But that isn’t true. Kylo Ren has escaped, and he is nearly here. By tomorrow you will see him again, if you still live.”

Her lethargic mind began to rouse, began to spark back to life by deliberate degrees. Rey’s instinct was to squash this joy, to bury it and burn it before it could haunt her, before it became yet another instrument. The hope was too bright in the ruin of her mind, and Rey cringed from it.

Snoke hummed over her, and it so closely approximated sympathy that Rey couldn’t think otherwise. Believing anything other than what she immediately perceived was just so taxing. She had no resources left for skepticism or questioning, and that was the way of pain. It was so much easier to accept what little kindness she was offered, do believe what she was told, to do what was suggested.

“My apprentice loves you, Little One. He wants to be with you always.” A bony finger, as long as her forearm, gently stroked her back. Contact starved, Rey inhaled softly. The touch was welcome, though some lost piece of her shouted that it shouldn’t be. “And now he can be.”

Snoke showed her.

_ Rey and Kylo, my most favored children, gently entwined every night with no conflict between you. You are euqals, partners, lovers. You command the Knights of Ren together, and they love and respect you. You are their sister, powerful and worthy. Together you right the wrongs of the New Republic, putting an end to warlords, to the abusive regimes the Senate allows to flourish. The galaxy is at peace, and so are my children. Together you find a green place to build your family. Your daughters and sons know the love of their mother, and the Force blesses them all. _

It was a thing with feathers, this idea. It was the belonging she’d daydreamed about for a lifetime, the family she’d mourned just as long. But how could Kylo want a life with her? She was nothing, no one, a discarded tool--

“Oh, but Little One, you could be so much more. We can make you strong. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” The raspy quality of Snoke’s voice fell away as Rey’s perception mingled with his mental voice, soothing and coaxing. “You are dear to Kylo Ren, who is like my son, and so you are dear to me.”

Idly, Rey imagined this was what the voice of a father must sound like. So gentle, so reassuring. Through her pain and her thirst and her sorrow, Rey found the strength to cling to his words.

_ I am dear to them. _

An appreciative hum and a stroke of her hair prefaced Snoke’s reply.

“I’d like to help you, Little One. I ask so little in return.”

Snoke would make it possible. He would make it so she could be with Kylo, be strong enough to live in his world. They could have a life together, a family, a shared purpose. They could have peace in each other’s arms. 

All Rey had to do was put aside her silly political ideas, things she didn’t feel strongly about to begin with. Was she really too stubborn to claim the love, the security, the kinship Kylo offered, when all she had to do was bend the knee?

_ I can help you, little Rey. Unless you’d rather kill yourself. _

  
The decision was as easy as breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but the next will be posted by Monday at the latest.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some amazing art to go with it thanks to tumblr's Elithien! [ Check it out here!](http://elithien.tumblr.com/post/140577978816/winning-commission-for-hyperscanvindicator-with)

Kylo ripped his saber through Stormtrooper after Stormtrooper, not daring to pause for breath. Luke was at his back and they whirled in tandem, deflecting shots meant for one another. They were making slow progress down a corridor that Kylo had trod a thousand times and it was surreal, fighting with his uncle. He’d been an enemy in Kylo’s mind for so long, and cooperative combat was not something he practiced in general. The Knights of Ren were lone operatives. But this was not some quiet infiltration, and he couldn’t do it alone. Even together, their only chance was to be quick enough that the leadership had little time to counter them.

The last member of the two patrol squads they’d slaughtered threw down his blaster and raised his hands to yield, and Kylo drew his saber back to cleave his head from his shoulders. But Luke’s hand on his wrist shocked him, and he paused.

“It’s a fine line between justice and vengeance, Kylo Ren.”

How he hated those little snippets of philosophy, hated them with a passion.

“You want a cute quote? How about ‘loose lips crash star destroyers?’” Kylo snapped. If this trooper went back to his superior blathering about Kylo Ren and a Jedi fighting their way to Snoke, he and Luke would be in Mandalorian shackles before they knew what was happening.

Luke sighed pointedly and stepped forward, waving his hand over the trooper’s forehead. The figure collapsed, unconscious.

Turning to face Kylo, Luke fixed him with a cold stare. “If we’re taking lives when we don’t have to, I won’t be a part of this.”

Kylo grit his teeth against an undiplomatic response and made off down the corridor in frustration. Even if Rey was able to fight once he found her, he’d never make it to Snoke on his own. As much as he detested his uncle, as certain as he was that this man had helped to make Kylo what he was and then judged him for it, Kylo knew that it was his pride that had caused this disaster. If he had to humble himself to save Rey, so be it.

Distracted by his lingering anger, Kylo nearly ran headlong into Ghera Ren as she rounded the corner. It was a shock to happen upon her, fully geared and masked. After all, she was the person who had taught Kylo all he knew about intimidation tactics.

“Look who’s back,” she crooned dangerously. Kylo’s fingers tightened around his saber, but Ghera didn’t reach for her weapons. Standing over him, fully armored, she made Kylo hyper aware of his humble appearance- he was still in the drab shirt he’d been given, unlaced shoes flapping on the tile floor. It was one thing to be so humiliated before his uncle. It was another thing in front of his former comrade, former subordinate, and former mentor.

Ghera peered past him at Luke, and her masked head cocked to the side. “Really, Kylo? You can’t be serious.” Even mechanically modulated by the helmet, the words dripped with disdain. “Baltus is dead because of him, and you brought him here? You really do take after your grandfather… you’ll betray anyone for love, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will,” Kylo growled. “Now let us pass.”

Ghera raised her empty hands and waggled her fingers mockingly. “Not my place to stop you. Supreme Leader ordered this sector cleared. He can’t wait for you to meet his newest Knight.”

Kylo’s hand flew up with clawed fingers, channeling his raging denial into a tendril of power that wrapped around her armored throat. Luke said his name, a warning, but Kylo heard it as through water. It wasn’t until his uncle grabbed his wrist and wrenched it back that Kylo regained some control over his fury.

Ghera gasped and coughed, but mixed into it was laughter, tinny and strange through her voice modulator. “Always someone holding your leash, huh Kylo?”

Ignoring the barb, Kylo yanked his arm away from his uncle. His eyes were narrowed, jaw clenched with the effort of not tearing her head from her shoulders. “You’re lying. Rey would never give in.” Kylo tried to spit his words, but they came out forced and unsure.

“Why not? It’s in her best interests, and someone had to take Baltus’ place. Honestly Kylo, I thought you’d be pleased. You’ve wanted this for months.” Straightening, Ghera brushed past them to make her way down the corridor in the opposite direction of Snoke’s chamber, so assured of Luke’s restraint that it didn’t bother her in the least to turn her back to them. Her  arrogance rankled Kylo. Ghera had been an ally, a mentor, even at times a friend; she’d befriended Rey, had teased them both mercilessly, had talked him off the ledge when he’d been about to lose his head. Now, she was gleefully taunting him, taking perverse pride in his lack of control… Kylo knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew better than anyone how vicious Ghera could be. He wasn’t a friend to her, not anymore. Just a rival like any other.

“I guess I’ll see you later, Kylo, assuming your girlfriend doesn’t kill you.”

She continued down the long dull hall, boots clicking on the polished tile. Kylo and Luke stared after her for a few moments, Kylo clenching and unclenching his fists. He tried to reach out for Rey through their bond, but her mind was on lockdown. He couldn’t sense so much as a passing whim.

Luke was another story. His uncle was quietly furious with him, jaw tight with frustration.

“I will kill you myself if you do that a third time, do we understand each other? I released you on the understanding that you could be trusted to act honorably in this one, final task--”

“Do you think Snoke has acted honorably?” Kylo shouted back at him, stunned at what Ghera had told them. “You think he hasn’t lied to her, tortured her, stolen her free will?”

Kylo breathing accelerated  until he was nearly hyperventilating, hands pulling at his hair, pupils blown.  On the verge of tears, Kylo realized  that this was panic- this was what Rey had felt in this same hallway they day he’d brought her here, all those months ago.

It couldn’t be true. It was impossible. Rey could not fall to Snoke.  _ No. _

Luke was staring at him, obviously at a loss for how to handle his estranged nephew in such a state. It was true, what Ghera had said about someone always having to rein Kylo in. In the past it had been Snoke, or even Ghera or Yssin, and now it was Luke… The evidence that Kylo was little more than an attack dog had never been more apparent. The only person around whom he’d been able to exercise control was Rey, and even she was probably still bruised from his last lapse in self-restraint. He had become  a force of rage that was good for little more than dealing death, and now Rey would be just like him…

These awful thoughts surrounded and enveloped him until he was doubled over, then crouched with head in his hands. He was roaring his grief at the floor, and then suddenly there were hands on his face, warm flesh and cool metal, easing his head up and pulling him into an embrace that squeezed the breath from his chest.

Kylo couldn’t remember his uncle ever hugging him. Not when Ben’s parents left him at the academy, not when he came looking for help, not ever. Now his hand was at the back of Kylo’s head pressing it into his shoulder, arms circling his shoulders… Kylo stood stock still for a gut wrenching moment, unsure if he should  push Luke away or embrace him in return. Eventually he did neither- just collapsed against the man, allowing himself to be held.

“He’s won,” Kylo gasped, fighting a sob to choke out the words. “He’ll control her forever. She’ll never be herself again, even if we kill him.”

Luke shook his head. “We can save her. We can bring her back.”

“She’s  _ gone _ ! She’s dead like Ben.” To say it out loud made  the idea powerful, and Kylo felt as if his heart would fall  from his chest and beat out his anguish on the tile floor.

Luke took a deep breath, and Kylo felt warmth flood over his limbs- the Force. The light. Luke was calling to it, could reach it even here where Rey had been blind to it. Stars, but it was tempting. That peace sang out to him, a song he’d been fighting to silence for fifteen years, and he wanted nothing better than to give in and drown in that tranquility.  What would to feel like to lay down his thousands of resentments, his myriad little sorrows, his rage and hate and fear? Would there even be anything left of him, once the light had burned the hurts of his past away?

“I don’t believe Ben is dead. I never have. I can feel him, even now.” Luke drew back, placing his hands on either side of Kylo’s face to fix him in his gaze. “Search your feelings, Kylo Ren. You know that Rey lives. We can bring her back.”

Kylo stared back at him, surprised to find tears in  his uncle’s eyes. The Force was whispering around them in a mixed maelstrom of light and darkness. Kylo tried to hear, let his own damp eyes fall closed to hear the hushed words breathed  into his mind- messages of hope, of vengeance, of warning... but it was possible. Rey could still be saved.

With a deep breath, Kylo opened his eyes and straightened, wiping the moisture from his face. He nodded shakily, and Luke looked grimly down the darkened corridor before them.

“He’s waiting for us,” Kylo choked out hoarsely. “It’s a trap.”

“It’s a trap set for you, but not for me.” Luke gave a grim half-smile. “I’ve been shielding my force signature since we left hyperspace. Snoke is still blind to my presence, or he wouldn’t dare call off his guards. His hubris will be our advantage.”

It wasn't impossible, then. They could still succeed.  Kylo took a deep, centering breath and shook out his limbs. They continued on down the deserted corridor and the walls changed from steel to stone, and sidelong glances at Skywalker told Kylo that he could feel the weight of this place, as Rey had the first time. The old man was clenching his jaw, gripping his lightsaber in a white knuckled fist.

He'd made peace with the presence long ago, but it was more than the tantalizing whispers of the dark side. Snoke himself, ancient and terrible, had imbued this place with an inky mental fog that would persist long after he'd abandoned the planet for a new base of operations. Sometimes Kylo wondered if the power of this place was all that kept his master alive. He never left these sites of ancient power for long, simply traveled briefly from one to the next. There were enough dark loci in the ruins of the Infinite Empire, places of great and terrible power, to keep their base of operations shifting for millennia.

The ruined slabs of stone that used to be the door to the chamber loomed before them in the gloom. With a reassuring glance at his uncle, Kylo picked his way over the rubble and Luke followed close behind.

Kylo was not a praying sort, but he prayed now.  _ Let Luke save her. Let her live. Let her heal from this. _

His Master was perched on his chair, and he glared at Kylo as he approached the dais. His expression was haughty, the ruined face contorted with glee. His glance then moved to Luke, and the smirk melted from Snoke's face in an instant. Fury replaced it, and his power began to whip about the room like a vengeful wind. Kylo’s stomach knotted itself, and he was struck by the sudden notion that this was a terrible plan.

"Luke Skywalker," he spat menacingly, rising halfway from his throne. His black eyes widened in his scared face, wizened fingers clenching into fists. He turned his furious gaze to Kylo, voice rising into a roar. "You  _ dare _ to bring him here, creeping through my halls like assassins?”

Neither of them replied, but ignited their sabers almost in tandem and prepared to spring. Rey was nowhere in sight, but Kylo could sense her nearby.

“You will suffer for this, Kylo Ren,” Snoke shouted at him, his gravely voice echoing in the gloomy chamber. “You will beg me for death!” 

Kylo fought a wave of nausea as Rey stepped out from behind the dais. She was painfully thin and her eyes were bruised, but there was confidence in her gait despite the pained expression she wore. Two crimson beams burst forth from either end of the polished hilt in her hand, and Rey gave the staff a twirl at her side.

“Rey,” Kylo breathed. He took a step towards her, reached for her, but Rey crouched and raised her weapon in a silent threat.

“Don’t do this, Kylo,” she implored him, her voice shaking. “Come back to me. We can be together. He promised.”

“His promises are lies, Rey,” Kylo replied. The anxiety in her voice tore at his heart. She was afraid, she was in pain… he had to get her out of here, get her somewhere safe where she could heal from these hurts. “He’s broken every promise he ever made to me. Help us end him.”

“Help  _ him _ ?” Rey cried, as if the very idea wounded her. “He would have let the Resistance execute you! He’d have let me die on an island, alone! He’d sit on a backwater planet and watch the galaxy burn, Kylo. How could you bring him here?”

“I am not your enemy, Rey.” Luke said carefully,his hurt plain in his voice, but it was no use. The red cast of Rey’s eyes left little hope of her being persuaded to assist them, at least in the heat of this moment. She lunged for her former Master, and Luke carefully moved into a defensive stance. Kylo trusted him not to hurt her if he could avoid it- he’d managed not to harm a hair on Kylo’s body on Dantooine, and he’d had far less reason for restraint.

For his own part Kylo dashed at Snoke, who activated his blood red blade and descended the dais to meet him. Snoke’s saber was needle thin and uncommonly long, a dangerous reach to fight against. They were poorly matched, though Kylo hated to admit it. He would never equal Snoke in  strength, couldn’t hope to intimidate him, and speed wasn’t his particular forte. Still, Kylo tried to adjust, abandoning his usual predatory style for a more agile one. Snoke slashed at him and Kylo didn’t bother to block it, just dodged and rolled to the right, leaping up to slash at Snoke’s exposed wrists. His master twisted away easily, sweeping his saber out in an arc that Kylo could only avoid by throwing himself to the floor. Then Snoke whipped back around, and Kylo had no choice but to block the slice with his own weapon. The force of the impact sent him flying, skittering across the stone floor. Kylo took advantage of their distance by pulling at the broken slabs of stone at the doorway with the force and hurling them at Snoke. He deflected the first with a slash and dodged the second, then caught the third to send it back at Kylo. But Kylo was running back in, slashing again at Snoke’s outstretched arm. Snoke drew back with a snarl, and the boulder dropped heavily behind Kylo, who spun to the side with a downward slash at Snoke’s legs that caught the corner of his robe. If he could get onto the dais, he might be able to leap down--

All strategizing ceased as pain exploded in his head, burning behind his eyes and popping his ears until he couldn’t help but scream. Snoke dug fingernails into his mind, tearing at him to break his focus. Across the room where Rey clashed with Luke in a blur of red and green, Kylo heard her scream his name and pressed on, slashing at Snoke again with a clumsy swing that Snoke blocked and parried with an upward arc that caught Kylo’s wrist this time.  Pain overwhelmed his senses and knocked the air from his lungs; burning, tearing, searing. Kylo stumbled forward, and through half-lidded eyes he saw the pale curve of his hand land on the stone, saw the blunt end of his arm spitting blood, and then the pain in his skull intensified. Snoke pressed the full weight of his power into Kylo’s mind, through playing with his prey. Kylo barely felt it as his knees hit the stone. He clutched his arm to his chest, his saber forgotten on the floor.

Somewhere, past all the pain, Snoke was laughing and Rey was screaming and Luke was shouting her name… but these barely registered over the black presence in his mind.

_ Foolish boy. You’ve destroyed everything you worked for in her name, and now she is  _ **_mine_ ** _ \-- _

As quickly as it had overcome him the presence lifted, and a terrible roaring reverberated through the chamber. Blood spattered over eyes, pooling around his knees.

Through the roar was Rey’s voice, shrieking over and over, “You promised! You promised me we’d be together!”

She was slicing Snoke to ribbons, attacking his legs with a fierce madness. Snoke was stunned, roaring with pain, and when his leg finally gave out Rey hacked at his neck until the creature collapsed.

Snoke was dead. 

The relief was a flood, choking and drowning Kylo in this unbelievable idea. He was dead. The voice that had coaxed and called and cajoled every day he could remember, the creature that had nursed his hurts into festering grudges, was gone. Silenced, forever. Kylo couldn’t feel, couldn’t think past the deafening emptiness in his mind.

Fortunately, Rey was quick to fill it with her rage. “You promised me!” She continued to scream. Covered in blood, Rey kicked and stabbed at the corpse far past the point of utility or decency.

Luke tried to pull her away, but she twisted around, slashing at him with her saber. Kylo staggered to his feet and lurched forward, ducking under her staff to get between them. He caught one of her wrists in his remaining hand and she stilled, the red haze in her eyes clearing gradually as she stared at him.

“It’s enough, Rey,” Kylo choked out. “He’s dead.”

Tears were pouring down her face, leaving pale tracks in the blood that coated her. “He said he wouldn’t hurt you. He said you’d be forgiven, that we’d be safe together.”

“He lied, like he always does. I’m so  _ sorry _ , Rey...” The blades of Rey’s saber fizzled out, and Kylo pulled her into a desperate one-armed embrace. He’d never thought he’d hold her again, never thought once that he’d leave here alive, with her. It was a gift, so fragile that Kylo was afraid it might shatter at any moment, and so sweet that it nearly drowned out the burning pain of his arm and the pounding in his skull. 

Nearly.

His head swam, and if Rey hadn’t been there to hold him up he might have collapsed. They were both covered in blood, and it was unclear how much of it was his. Shock was setting in, a stiff confusion that made it hard to process Luke’s instructions. Someone wrapped something around the raw stump of his arm and pressed the hilt of his saber into his other hand, and then they pulled him towards the corridor. Kylo stumbled over the boulders in the doorway, and could barely keep up as they barreled back towards the landing bay. Squads of Stormtroopers were ready to intercept them, and even with one arm and half his mind slowly shutting down on itself the three of them managed to carve a path back to the ship.

They burst out from the base to the landing bay. A rainstorm was just starting, torrents of water pelting the broadleaved trees of the rainforest and washing the blood from their limbs. The  _ Lightstealth _ -18 still sat on the landing pad, perched like an insect about to take flight. Rey’s hand was on Kylo’s arm, pulling him forward step by step, fighting the shock that dulled his senses and dysregulated his heartbeat. They were almost there, almost to the loading ramp when Kylo felt the impact on his back, a high amperage stun that locked his legs and sent him sprawling on the slick duracrete. 

Rey spun around and lunged, a blur of red in the rain, falling like sheets. Ghera laughed and stepped into her dance, countering Rey’s each move with with dangerous ease. Luke was running back to join her, boots crashing through the pooling water, when the blaster fire started. Trayt led a squadron to their left, rifles firing with such density that Luke fell back into a defensive stance, deflecting shots as quickly as Kylo had ever seen a human move.

Kylo breathed deeply and pulled at the Force, willing his heart to stop hammering, his head to stop spinning, his vision to steady. He lurched to his feet and swung his saber in quick, deliberate arcs to send bolts back to their points of origin, and reached out to freeze a few that strayed in Rey and Ghera’s direction. Slowly Kylo made his way back to them, but Ghera kept steering Rey away from them. Kylo realized this this was her game, to separate them: Luke was making his way towards Trayt and his squadron, Rey was outmatched, and Kylo was too weak to fight his way to her. He was dimly aware of her shouting as Ghera landed blows, sharp little shocks that weren’t enough to stop her heart. Ghera was playing with her, wearing her down to kill her in spectacular fashion… Kylo knew her style. It was his own now, since she’d taught it to him over a decade ago. But the real danger had yet to reveal himself- Yssin was here. Kylo could feel him, watching and waiting for his perfect shot, patient and deadly accurate. When he fired, he would not miss. The only remaining question was who Yssin was aiming for first.

Luke reached Trayt’s line and began to tear through it, downing the half dozen remaining troopers one by one and pushing Trayt into the corner of two slick tiled walls. With no more fire to stall him Kylo reached Rey and Ghera, joining their twisting dance and keeping eyes out for Yssin.

He was clumsy from blood loss, but all he had to do was distract her. Ghera turned away from Rey, and she closed her eyes, breathed in, and her edges flickered and blurred until Kylo was sure that he only saw her because he already knew where she was. Smirking, Kylo blocked and parried Ghera, going on the defensive to draw her into the open where Rey, invisible, could make a final blow…

Then, without warning, Kylo felt Luke die.

The pain came from the Force itself, undone by the loss of such a life. His force signature, bright as a small sun, exploded outward like a supernova, knocking the breath from Kylo’s chest with the aftershock. He was stunned a moment, unthinking, uncomprehending, when another bolt erupted from the shadow beneath the ship, and it was as if the Force itself warned him, slowed time so he could raise his crackling saber in a perfect deflection that took Yssin out. Rey’s saber exploded from Ghera’s chest, and Kylo backed out of the way as the giant of a woman fell before turning abruptly and stumbling to where Luke lay, just feet from a stunned and distracted Trayt Ren. Rey took him out before Kylo could reach them, faster on her feet despite deep burns blistering across her arms from Ghera’s batons.

At the base of his uncle’s skull was a neat hole. He was facedown in a ring of white armored bodies, spinal column severed, saber shorted out in the pooling rain.

Bile rose in Kylo’s throat and blood rushed to his chest. His mind dwelt on the strangest details; the burnt edges of the wound, the singed hair, the rough fabric of Luke’s collar. Emotions crowded his mind in a confusing cacophony, and all he could do was stand over the body, staring numbly at the myth lying on the duracrete before him.

Rey tugged at his arm. “We need to go, Kylo. Before more come.” Kylo nodded silently and bent to pick up Luke, sodden and heavy with rain. 

Rey tugged again, insistent.

“We can’t leave him here,” Kylo muttered, struggling to lift the man with just one working hand.

Sighing Rey started to rebuke him. “He was going to let them kill you, Kylo--”

“He released me and came here to save you!” Kylo shouted breathlessly, struggling to keep composure. “I’m not leaving him!”

Rey paused a moment before scrambling to lift Luke’s feet, and the two of them managed to half carry, half drag him onto the recon ship. Stumbling to the cockpit, Kylo collapsed beside the pilot’s seat and looped his arm around a pipe for takeoff while Rey wasted no time in urging the silent ship to life.

It only took minutes for them to enter hyperspace, but the shock he’d been pushing off overtook him in waves of dizziness and numb confusion. He thought that Rey managed to stuff him into a berth, thought he heard the telltale zip of a medkit being opened and the paper ripping from bacta patches, thought he heard her whispering his name, begging him to stay with her, before he tumbled into a calm darkness that promised its own kind of long-awaited tranquility.

Here, Kylo thought deliriously, was his own peace, shadowed and cool, a balm on his rage. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, praise by to ThermalDetonhater for her amazing beta-ing. It's a labor that gets little recognition and no pay, and I couldn't do this half as well without her.
> 
> One more chapter, friends. Thank you for hanging on throughout this incredible ride.


End file.
